


The Last Two People Left on Earth

by HarveyDangerfield, thetheotheatre



Series: Apocalypse Husbands [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Apocalypse (Umbrella Academy), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Blow Jobs, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Coitus Interruptus, Developing Relationship, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Gunshot Wounds, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Lost Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Porn with Feelings, Pseudo-Incest, Secret Relationship, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Surgery, Time Travel, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 93,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheotheatre/pseuds/thetheotheatre
Summary: Five spent the last 30 years married to Diego, the love of his life and the only other survivor of the apocalypse that ravaged the world and laid it barren. For most of Five's life, it was just them against the world.He's long gone, by the time Five has to return home to save the world, and there's a new Diego in his place.Five is conflicted.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Series: Apocalypse Husbands [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022158
Comments: 88
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO 👏 this right here bout to be a motherfucking JOURNEY. mind the tags and hold on for the most agonizing slowburn of the century
> 
> this will be mostly following the events of canon through seasons 1 and 2, but we did take SOME liberties here and there to rearrange canon slightly to fit this AU, so if things don't 100% line up to the way they happened in canon, that's on purpose. more or less everything happens in roughly the same order and gets them to the same finish line
> 
> enjoy!

The worst part of coming home was seeing Diego's face. 

Five had been preparing himself for it for years. He'd never intended to stay in the future forever, his plan had always been to go home, on some level. Maybe sometimes his eyes strayed from the prize a little farther than they should have, but he always course-corrected eventually. It was hard to even think about going home and leaving Diego behind to fend for himself, even if returning home would undo the time stream in which Diego and Five were together at all, prevent Diego from suffering any of the torment they lived through together. 

And maybe that was part of what made him constantly second guess his decision to go home. If he'd been alone it would be so much easier-- hell, even if he and Diego had simply been brothers or good _friends_ , it would have been easier. But considering what they had, what they fought through together, the meaningful relationship they shared for years-- thinking about going back home and erasing all of it, killing that version of Diego, unwriting him completely so that he only existed in Five's memories? It was practically unthinkable. 

It suddenly got a lot easier, after Diego died. 

He'd prepared himself for the inevitability of seeing Diego again. Young and fresh and completely oblivious to the house that he and Five spent decades building together in the space between their tightly held hands. But actually _seeing_ him was another story entirely. 

Seeing all of his family together in one place was overwhelming, the notion that he'd succeeded after so many long years of waiting and trying and suffering, bleeding and crying and agonizing over his math. Giving up, curling into Diego's arms, soothed to sleep only to wake up and try again with half-hearted attempts to undo this timeline and undo Diego, himself. So many years wasted, his gaze diffused from its usual clarity over the mission by Diego's smiling face.  
  
Maybe if he hadn't taken his time, maybe if he'd buckled down sooner, he wouldn't have had all those years to doubt himself. He wouldn't have spent so much time with Diego, he would have come home sooner. He wouldn't have had so much to lose. He wouldn't have had to bury him with his own two hands beside the line of tidy graves he dug for the rest of their family-- a family Diego never remembered, even years and decades later. Five blames himself for that, too. 

Wasted years don't seem to matter anymore, though. Now that he's like this. Inexplicably a child, his body suddenly weaker in some places and stronger in others. There's no more creak in his knuckles or knees, no more strength or sturdiness in his core, no more wrinkles softening his face or scars criss-crossing his body like a roadmap of the life he and Diego traveled together. Some of those scars given to him lovingly by the man himself. Missing that criss-crossed D on his shoulder made with three perfect lines. 

He strips off the suit much too big for him now, standing in his bedroom, shedding layers like a snake losing its skin. He feels lighter as he unknots the tie and shrugs off the heavy satin jacket. Commission standard, lined with a fire-retardant material that stayed cool against his skin but weighed twice as much as a normal jacket. His shoulders feel lighter as he pries open the buttons of his shirt, willing himself not to get more frantic as he undresses, even as bile claws up the back of his throat at the sight of his own two small hands, his own ten perfectly groomed nails, his own knuckles free from the coarse grey hair of age. It sticks in the back of his mouth, sick and vile when he strips off the belt and his trousers slip right down his legs, and as he steps out of the oversized shoes to look at himself in the mirror. Pale, skinny, his undershirt long enough to be a smock and his boxers hanging down to his knees. He looks like a child trying on father's clothes.  
  
He _is_ a child. it makes him nauseous as he opens the drawer of his dresser and pulls out the only clothes that still fit him, covered in a fine layer of dust. Mother must have stopped coming up here to clean ages ago, when the only two children who lived in the attic were gone. He shakes the dust off the old uniform, pulling on a fresh undershirt, new underwear, socks and shirt and tie. He tucks his shirt into his shorts and while he could skip the sweater and blazer, something feels right about slipping back into that old jacket, like tucking into a warm bath. It still fits his shoulders perfectly, and he inspects himself in the mirror with a grim expression, a young face he barely remembers looking back at him. He tries not to be sick.  
  
Diego’s feelings surrounding the events of the day sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, like a cheap tequila shot chased by a sour lime. They crept down the back of his throat, made his face twitch, and left him feeling overall uneasy. It hadn’t been the news of his father’s death that made him feel this way - Diego couldn’t have cared less about that. He hadn’t spoken to him since the night he left the Academy as a defiant and rebellious teenager. He hadn’t cared to reconcile their differences after he’d finally found the courage to stand up to Reginald, even after he tore him back down again. 

Rather, it was the pull of his family. Being together again for the first time in years made Diego’s skin itch, but he couldn’t stop the ever-present urge to scratch it. There was no doubt they’d all show up for this and as often as Diego made it appear like he didn’t care, that’s all it was - an appearance. When Allison sent him a Christmas card of her family, Diego hung it up on his mini fridge in his shitty basement apartment, half-covered by the menu for his favorite takeout place. When Klaus called him from a seedy downtown club at three in the morning, he complained to hell and back about it, but he still picked him up. When Vanya left a copy of her book at the gym for him, he used it for target practice only after he’d spent hours flipping through it.  
  
Still, stepping into the walls of his childhood home, Diego held his head high with no plans to let on to any of those feelings today, and when the first person he laid eyes on had been Vanya, it was a lot easier than he imagined. The cold words rolled off his tongue with ease and they didn’t stop there. He butt heads with Luther just as easily as when they were kids. Nothing had changed, really, except their father wasn’t here to scold Diego for his attitude. 

It had changed the second Five had appeared, falling (quite literally) out of nowhere. That’s when the uneasy feeling set in. He still looked the same he did on the day he disappeared and Diego hadn’t realized how much he’d missed him until he saw that dimpled grin, his sharp and condescending voice so familiar and foreign at the same time. 

Feeling like he’d never truly left, Diego makes his way through the hallowed halls of the mansion, heavy boots creaking on old wood floors. He stops in the doorway to Five’s room, leaning a broad shoulder against the frame, his arms coming up to settle across his chest, a thumb hooking into his harness. He watches Five slip on the old jacket, a smug grin toying at the corner of his lips. “Haven’t seen that in years.” He finally says, breaking the silence that Five probably didn’t even realize had fallen between them. He motions to the uniform and every detail that Five had taken the time to dress himself in, even those god-awful socks that Diego had never worn properly. “You must have really missed this place, huh?”  
  
" _Don't_ ," Five reprimands sharply. He doesn't startle-- he'd heard Diego coming in those shitkickers from a mile away. Green eyes flick up to make eye contact with Diego through the mirror, and though he feels his entire body clench at the sight of his face, not an inch of that unease shows in his steely expression. 

Truthfully, he _had_ missed it. That's what makes it so awful. Forty-five years away from home will result in a trickle or two of nostalgia here and there, fond memories of simpler times, but to actually be immersed back into the bowels of their family home as if no time at all had passed, his own bedroom still containing every scrap of paper and cloth and book as it did the day he left... it's suffocating. 

Turning to face Diego, those alert eyes give him a once-over, flicking down the line of his body and back up to his face, his brows furrowing a little in the middle. His expression is unreadable, intense and sour and warm with something in his eyes that Diego might easily mistake for contempt. The corners of his jaw flex as he grits his teeth soundlessly. 

Memory is a funny thing. He hasn't seen Diego's face in fifteen years now, almost to the day, but he could swear if someone tasked him with drawing Diego from memory, he would be able to map out every single crease in his brow, every mole and freckle and scar and pockmark. It's been longer still sees he's seen Diego like _this_ , so hale and hearty, his face smooth and unblemished. The wastes hadn't been kind to either of them, physically, and to see him again like this, practically glowing. He looks angelic.  
  
He realizes the small ways, though, in which his memory had failed him. Tiny details of Diego's appearance that had been worn away by the sands of time. The scar over his ear that had faded with age, the once-thick peaks of his eyelashes that had thinned with malnourishment. The warm hue to his skin that looks almost pale compared to the leather they'd both developed over the years to protect themselves from the sun. He looks so _soft_ , and Five's palms itch and sweat with the desperate muscle-memory begging him to touch. He doesn't move. 

"You seem like you're fitting right in yourself," he says coldly. "Fighting with our family, just like old times. What was that saying about old dogs?"

Diego watches as Five finally turns around to face him, suddenly hit with a handful of memories from their childhood, most of them having happened in this room. Five looks the same, except for his eyes - Diego can’t quite recognize all the emotion behind them, but his once bright and curious green eyes were slightly darker. Briefly, Diego wonders what he’d endured in the future that would have let that carry over to this body. 

If Diego is honest, he still doesn’t understand everything that Five had explained in the kitchen. It’s not because he isn’t smart, like his brother had been so quick to state, but this situation was way more complex than Diego had ever imagined it being. He’d reluctantly settled with the fact that he was never going to see Five again, but here he was, standing in front of him like it was the last morning he saw him, seventeen years ago. 

“Some things never change, man,” he says, shrugging his shoulders casually as he allows himself to step further into his room. True to his statement, not much has changed in this room. Their father left it untouched and while Diego had occasionally crept in here in the middle of the night, the sheets stopped smelling like Five a few months after he disappeared and eventually, it just hurt too much to linger in here with the memories of his brother. He swipes his finger over the top of his desk, looking at the dust that had collected on his fingertip before brushing it off on the leg of his pants. 

He turns back to Five, looking at him once more. He’s on edge - Diego can tell from the way his brow is furrowed and the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. Five always had been good at hiding his emotions, but Diego was even better at reading them. He motions towards him, driving his point home further in a way that he knew would get under Five’s skin. “You should know. Forty-five years and you’re still exactly the same.”

"An oversight," Five says coolly, willing Diego to stop moving, to stop coming closer. The stale air of the room is stirred by Diego stepping into it, churning it around him. He smells like leather, like warm skin, retaining sunlight in that way he always did. He soaked it in during the day and kept Five warm with it at night. He doesn't want to be able to _smell_ him, but he remembers the smell of Diego's sebum from all the nights he spent with his nose tucked into his hair, even after years without it, and it punches him in the gut now. 

He wants to close the distance between them, spread his hands on Diego's chest, grab him by that stupid harness and pull him down into an embrace that lasts for the rest of his mortal life-- or until the apocalypse comes. Whichever comes first. He doesn't move. 

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts lest they rebel, a question claws at the back of his mind. He knows it's irrational. The one thing he's clung so tightly to over the years to stay sane is his rational thought, especially after Diego died. He had to keep his mind sharp and capable, and so he would go over the laws of physics in his head, the classic mathematics, facts about himself. He clung so tightly to reason and reality that to even think of voicing his next question feels foolish. 

But it tumbles out of his mouth almost as if pulled through his teeth by force, a soft and stupid, "Do you... remember anything?"  
  
Diego, honestly, expected a bit more from Five than one short remark, but maybe that was just the familiar ache in his bones that came whenever he thought about Five. The two of them had always had an interesting dynamic - at the surface level it was just brotherly bickering, each feeling the need to get the last word in and while Diego had often stuttered his words in his youth, he always found it easy to speak around Five. Digging deeper, though, their dynamic went behind playful shoulder checks and witty insults. It was quiet words whispered under the blankets in the middle of the night, soft touches exchanged in empty hallways, and longing glances thrown in the other’s direction. 

Five is staring at him with an expression that Diego can’t quite read. Maybe seventeen years away from him had made Diego a little rusty at this. Then, Five is asking him that question and Diego can’t help but cock his head to the side in confusion. 

“ _Remember_ anything?” He repeats the question back to him, arching a brow at his brother as he tries to understand exactly what he’s asking. They never talked about their... Diego doesn’t even know what word to use to describe it - _thing_. He settles on _thing_ and looks at Five again. They’d never talked about it. Five had disappeared before they needed a reason to. He couldn’t be asking about _that_. 

His expression softens, the hard lines on his face slowly fading when he realizes he has no idea what Five is talking about. He can’t even make a retort about it, too caught up in thinking of what it could be. Finally, he shakes he head softly. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that, kid.” He says, folding his arms across his chest again, though he’s well aware Five probably won’t elaborate.  
  
" _Don't_ ," Five says again, with more heat this time, as he feels his heart squeeze in his chest. "Call me kid."

Of course Diego wouldn't remember, and it was stupid of Five to even voice the question out loud. That's not how time travel works. Going back to the past erases everything that happened in between the starting line and the end, in one fell swoop. It occurs to him all over again that the Diego he knew, surviving with him in the wastes for thirty long years, never existed according to this world. If he doesn't succeed here, he _will_ exist again someday, but for right now, he doesn't. The man standing in front of him has no idea of the fate that befalls him in just seven short days if Five's mission is unsuccessful.

As if he doesn't have enough fucking pressure. 

Stupidly, some irrational, feral part of him assumed that with a love as profound and meaningful as he and Diego shared, _something_ would make it through the time stream. Something would dilate in Diego's mind just at having it directly referenced and his memories would unspool in the wrong direction, and Five would be gifted more time with Diego. 

His time with Diego exists only in the abstract, now. The man standing in front of him has yet to experience a single second of the bond the two of them shared, while Five stands in front of him having experienced the full scope of it and come out the other side a changed man. He feels like crying. He doesn't. 

"Forget it," he says, turning away from his brother to put his back to him, to physically throw up that barrier in order to hold himself back from doing something stupid, and he adjusts his tie in the mirror to make sure the knot lays flat against his collar. "Why are you here?"

Diego normally would have shot back at Five, meeting his heated tone with a sarcastic one of his own, but Five was clearly worked up over whatever this was and the realization finally sunk in - Five really _wasn’t_ a kid anymore. He sure as hell looked like it, but Diego had to get past that. His brother, who had once been his equal, was nearly twice as old as he was. Biting his tongue, Diego held back a retort. 

He’d let go of Five a year or two after he disappeared, after he realized he wasn’t coming back. Vanya always left the lights on for him, but Diego had been the one to put them out. He was a bitter teenager - he’d admit that. Longing had turned to resentment over the span of a few months after Diego began to feel even more alienated from his family and their father hung up that stupid portrait of Five. 

The person standing in front of him is barely the brother he’d been so close to all those years ago. 

When Five suddenly turns away from him, Diego can’t help but frown. He’s fiddling with his tie in the mirror, even though it already looks pristine and Diego knows it’s a distraction. He shrugs, watching him in the mirror as his thumb catches on his harness. “You suddenly appear again after like fifteen years and you except me to _not_ want to catch up with you?” He says casually, turning towards Five’s bed and sinking down on the edge of it.

"Is that what this is?" Five says coldly, not making eye contact with Diego in the mirror. He can't stand to see those warm brown eyes locked with his again. Instead, he busies himself pulling pills off his jacket, just to give him an excuse to keep his back turned, his hands busy. It'll be less evident that they're shaking that way. "Are we _catching up?"_

He lifts his foot to brace his shoe on the creaky seat of a desk chair he hasn't sat in for 45 years, in order to brush old stains off the shiny surface and retie his shoe, tighter. Anything to give him an excuse to put off looking at Diego again. 

"Do you want me to tell you about how I learned how to grow anemic tomatoes out of a coffee can, going hungry for weeks suffering on cockroaches and rats until they grew?" he asks, his tone frigid. "Or maybe you want the details of what a world without _toilet paper_ was like. Or maybe you'd like to tell me about the mundane, listless relationships you've been in, and all of the little difficulties _you've_ had to deal with in your daily life since I left. Has a barista ever misspelled your name?"

He knows he's being petty, and worse he knows Diego doesn't _deserve_ it. But it's easier to be angry at him than anything else. Put aside those old feelings and let the anger come out. It's unwarranted, Diego did nothing but enter the room, but that's enough for him to be a target. Five's anger is at himself, for not figuring out how to get home sooner. At the Commission, for doing what they did to him. At his father, for pushing him to the point he felt like running at all. At whoever's going to destroy the fucking world. His anger is at so many things that are so much bigger than him that he doesn't have anywhere to point it.

But Diego's right in front of him, a beautiful, incongruous masterpiece of trauma, desperation and loyalty, and if the alternative is Five hurting so deep down into his bones that he can't breathe, then this is better.

At first, all Diego can do is blink in surprise. Five had never snapped at him growing up, not like this anyway. He’d seen Klaus and Luther and even Allison on the receiving end of it more times than he could count, but Five had never shown _him_ that same heat.

Five wasn’t even looking at him and somehow, that made it all the worse, as if he didn’t care about him enough to see his reaction. Had forty-five years alone really made Five feel so indifferent towards him? The thought was hard for Diego to wrap his head around, catching in the back of his throat along with the words he wanted to snarl back at Five. 

He hadn’t lived through an apocalypse, but that didn’t mean he didn’t struggle. He’d been practically kicked out by their father, and later he was kicked out of the Police Academy. He spent his days cleaning up after disgusting, sweaty men at the boxing gym and his nights patrolling the streets. His only somewhat successful relationship ended in handcuffs, and not in a way Diego would have wanted. 

But Five doesn’t care about any of that. He’d practically said so himself. So Diego swallows his pride for once, with it any heat that he wanted to throw back at his brother and the words that were begging to be stuttered over. 

He braces his hands on his thighs as he rises to his feet, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. “You know what, forget it.” He mumbles to Five, throwing a glance in his direction even though he knows Five won’t look back. He can feel his blood boiling beneath his skin, even though Diego didn’t want to pick a fight with Five. Walking out would be so easy, but when had anything in Diego’s life ever been easy? “Great to have you back, asshole.”  
  
As soon as Diego is out of the room, Five sinks down to his knees on the floor, shame and anguish and guilt all hitting him like a sledge hammer to the chest. He curls in on himself like an insect, hugging his arms, the pressure building inside of him like he wants to scream-- but he swallows it down. He keeps it inside, tucked like a smoldering coal right behind his sternum, as smoke rises out of his nose and ears. Just like the Hargreeves were always taught to do. Old habits die hard. 

He can't let Diego's presence distract him from the mission. His goal is to save the world, to prevent _this_ Diego from ever becoming _his_ Diego. The thought alone burns in his stomach. A tiny, selfish part of him wants to fail, just for the peace of knowing that his and Diego's relationship will always exist in a quantum state, that even if he dies when the world ends with the rest of his siblings, at least every second of his past and Diego's future are happening in a constant loop of what has both happened and has yet to come. 

But he knows that isn't fair. He knows better than to throw away the fate of the world just for one man. So he picks himself off the ground, dusts himself off, and turns around to leave the room. He has to find the owner of that eyeball, it's the one thing he's held onto for all these years, the one thing giving him the strength to come home and undo this mess. The rest of his siblings deserved to get to live their lives, even if it meant erasing the only relationship that ever meant a damn to Five from existence, like wiping a blackboard clean.


	2. Chapter 2

Step one is easy-- or would have been, if Five was an adult. Being in the body of a child really puts a damper on all of his plans. If he were still elderly and dignified, with his broad shoulders and sharp mustache and smart hat, he wouldn't be having as much issue with the general populace as he finds himself having now. Looked down upon, belittled, or in some cases flat-out ignored. He's practically one step away from being arrested for truancy at this stage, and he knows as much as it galls him, he has no choice but to recruit some of the family members he specifically came home to protect from having to be involved in this at all, in order to get anything done in the first place. 

Though his heart sings for Diego, he already knows what a bad idea it would be, and so he goes to Klaus. It turns out to be a pretty good move on his part, Klaus proving to be a surprisingly effective partner in crime-- even if the bastard _did_ hit him in the face. It got them valuable information, at least. 

"If you _ever_ hit me in the face like that again," Five informs Klaus on the front steps of the building where they sit side by side when the deed is done, "I will cut off, prepare, and make you eat your own hand."

"Oh come on, I was great in there, you should be thanking me," Klaus says, reaching out to brush his thumb over Five's split lip. "It's not that bad, anyway. All the girls on the playground will think it's sexy."

Five can't help but laugh as he pulls his face out of Klaus' hand and reaches up to brush his hand over his brother's hair. "I'm sure they will. You have glitter in your hair."

"It's seasoning," Klaus grins. "For when you cut off my hand and feed it to me."

Diego wanted to admit that his short-lived interaction with Five in his childhood bedroom, a place he apparently still held close to his heart, didn't affect him that much, but he'd be lying to himself. He lied to himself about a lot of things, like how much he enjoyed the feeling of a raw egg sliding down his throat after a workout or how much he disliked any affectionate touch or how he was just fine with his 'just-friends' situation with Patch, but lying to himself about _this_ was harder than he thought it would be.

It made him act out against Luther in front of their whole family, which wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary, but he'd done it front of _Mom_ \- something he tried to rarely as a kid. It made him bold that night, crashing a crime scene that ended with him sitting in the backseat of his ex-girlfriend's cop car - _again_. Even a night with her couldn't clear his head. 

Luther, the next day, had actually managed to make him forget for a whole ten minutes after he'd basically admitted to not only thinking that he'd been the one who murdered their father, but that he'd been wrong about it. His blood ran hot as he kicked his brother out of his apartment, using only his words this time, though his hand was itching for the knife in his back pocket. He'd cut Luther once. He could do it again. 

He leaves his apartment not long after Luther, feeling too stifled and blazing hot to just sit there and ruminate on whatever he's feeling. The door slams behind him as he leaves, prompting a scolding from Al that echoes through the halls of the gym, but that Diego barely hears. He'll deal with the consequences later. That's his motto.

He isn't sure how long he's been walking for, but he rounds a corner, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a jacket he'd hastily thrown over the same clothes he'd been wearing since yesterday. He's on edge and the crisp air does little to soothe him, but he keeps his head held high. He walks with confidence and arrogance, but he reeks of insecurity and uncertainty. He stops dead in his tracks when he hears a pair of familiar voices that he would know anywhere. 

They're sitting close to one another on the steps of a building Diego doesn't recognize even though he knows this city like the back of his hand. They're closer than Five had dared to get to him the other night and Diego's heart aches as he watches them - the thumb on Five's lip, the lighthearted laugh he retorts with, the hand brushing through Klaus' hair, the playful grin he gives in response. 

Diego's body moves on autopilot, heavy boots hitting the concrete in uneven steps as he approaches them, though he's desperately trying to find the switch to stop himself, to shut himself down and announce an error code. It doesn't happen, though. Diego's stopping in front of them, brown eyes flickering from Five to Klaus, then back to Five, but he doesn't say anything, not until he sees Klaus' face light up, opening his mouth to explain whatever it was that they'd just done, but Diego holds a hand up to stop him. "I don't think I wanna know." He says, tearing his gaze away from Five to look at his other brother and the substance he was covered in.

The worst part was watching all the joy drain clear out of Five the instant he saw Diego approaching. The smile that dimpled his cheeks and the softness in his eyes disappear all at once, like the bars of a steel trap coming down. Like a prison sentence. Truthfully, that's what it is. If Five lets any of those trace amounts of softness left in him out to play while Diego was around-- well, the consequences could be disastrous.

Five stands up off the steps and adjusts his jacket, straightening it over his shoulders. He licks the cut on his lip once, glances at Diego once, and then vanishes in a flash of blue light. 

"Aw, we were _bonding_. You ruined it," Klaus gives Diego a pitiful look in his too-big suit, bunched up like a petulant toddler on the stairs under him.

Watching the emotion drain from Five's face feels like a punch to the gut. He'd half-convinced himself that maybe Five had just been in a bad mood last night, but seeing his reaction here just confirmed what he'd feared all along. He'd barely said anything, only really addressed Klaus, and Five was already over it. 

He looks at him as he stands, fixing that stupid uniform that he was still wearing. Maybe under different circumstances, it would make Diego feel better about wearing the same clothes as yesterday, knowing Five was too. His gaze flickers down to his lip, catching sight of the drop of blood that Five's tongue cleans and as Diego tries to meet his gaze, he blinks, and Five is gone. 

He's still staring at the place he'd been standing three seconds ago when Klaus' voice breaks the silence that had begun to encompass Diego's thoughts. He turns towards him, an instinctive glare quickly softening. He couldn't be mad at Klaus - Five was _his_ brother, too. "Doubt it." He mumbles, adjusting his hands his pockets as he turns to head back down the street, assuming that Five had probably just jumped back to the academy. "Five doesn't bond with anybody."   
  
Diego was almost tempted to walk back to the academy, even knowing how long it would take him, but if Five wasn't there by the time he got back, it would all be for nothing. He mumbles a goodbye to Klaus and walks himself back to his apartment for the sole purpose of getting his car, not for the first time wishing for a power that could get him to Five just as easily as the other disappeared from him.   
  
In that moment, Five decides that his best bet is to just avoid Diego entirely, at all costs, whenever possible. Focus on the mission, and get out the other side, and then... 

And then? Five doesn't know. There's a stupid, hopeful part of him that wants to believe he and Diego would get back together at that point. That he's been gifted a second chance with the same man, another 30 years to spend together-- or more, considering how healthy Diego had been before he caught the infection that killed him. But realistically, he knows that isn't likely to ever happen. Not only is Five physically thirteen again, something which Diego already had a precedent for not being interested in considering how long it took for their relationship to blossom the first time, but _this_ Diego isn't even the same man. 

The massive head injury that Diego survived under the rubble of the old mansion, had rendered him with total amnesia, after all. He'd been lying there for a day or more, trapped under a beam that only barely shielded him from the majority of the building that did its level best to collapse in on him. Dehydrated, bleeding-- not for the first time, Five wonders if he had somehow known, if he'd been quicker, maybe he could have spared Diego the lasting brain damage he was left with for the rest of his life. The Diego he knew, the Diego he loved, wasn't the same man who stands before him now.  
  
It wasn't that he was inherently different. Much of Diego's personality was intrinsic to him, and redeveloped over time as he recovered from the head injury Five nursed him back to health from. That side of his head was always just a little bit funny shaped, and he never was able to see out of his right eye again, but by the time he was healthy again, he was as much the man as Five knew when they were young. He was missing only one vital detail: knowing who Five _was_. That separation is what fostered their relationship the way it did. Sure, they'd fooled around here and there when they were extremely young, but that was necessity born from lack of option. Diego not being cognitively fully aware of their familial tie played a major part in the depth their relationship grew to. 

Not to mention, in a world where it was just the two of them, that lack of option reared its head even more severely. Now, in this world, with its myriad people and opportunities for Diego? There's not a chance in hell Diego would turn to him, fully knowing he's his brother, fully knowing he's 13 years old with nary a hair on his chest. It was easier to just avoid him. He needs a _strong_ fucking cup of coffee.

Diego passes Grace on the way inside and as much as he wants to keep walking by her and just find Five, he could never ignore her. She was the only thing in this house worth holding on to - before Five returned, anyway. 

"Is Five around?" He asks her after a moment, one hand resting on her arm, a gentle touch reserved for only her. He watches the cogs turn in her head for a moment before she smiles, tilting her head in the direction of the kitchen. 

"I just saw him pass through. It's nice to have him home again, isn't it, Diego?" She says and Diego can't help the small smile. He doesn't verbally agree, but he's thinking it. 

He thanks her, squeezing her arm gently as they part ways and Diego descends the stairs towards the kitchen. The smell of coffee hits his noise before he's even made it there and he knows it has to be Five's doing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, catching a glimpse of Five at the counter, pouring himself a cup of the stuff. Diego doesn't usually indulge in an afternoon cup, but Five's made enough to share and it's an excuse to talk to him. 

"Can your body even handle that much caffeine?" He finally asks, stepping further into the kitchen, stopping at the table and letting his hands rest on the back of one of the chairs. He can't help but quip. Five will hate it, he knows it, but he half-expects an equally witty and dry remark like when they used to bicker as kids.  
  
Again, Five had heard the approach of boots-- but this time, he'd begged to himself it was anyone but Diego. He knew it would be, he recognizes the cadence of his foot steps. They weren't heavy enough to be Luther's, too heavy to be Klaus's, and too _bootsy_ to be anyone else. As soon as he hears Diego's voice, he sighs slowly, his shoulders visibly deflating. 

It would seem that avoiding Diego wouldn't be that easy, if the man was so hell-fucking-bent on being magnetically attracted to him at every opportunity. What Five's doing to put off the vibes that he _wants_ Diego around so much, he couldn't begin to guess. 

"My body is fine," he says flatly, as he turns around without bothering to put milk or sugar in the cup. "Never healthier, technically. Besides, the only other option is sleeping, and that's not happening." 

As if the nightmares weren't bad enough, he couldn't afford to waste the time.  
  
Diego didn't miss Five's subtle reaction to his appearance, but he ignores the feelings that swell with it. He's jumping to conclusions, but its hard not to when every interaction he's had with his long-lost brother seems like a _chore_ to him. 

He steps up to the counter next to Five, reaching for the pot of coffee and a mug, pouring himself a decent cup. He doesn't ask, doesn't even think to, even though this Five was likely to snap at him for doing it. He grabs the dish of sugar, dropping a spoonful of it into his coffee. He stirs it with his finger until it's dissolved, using the towel by the sink to wipe the excess off his finger rather than dirty a spoon. 

Leaning back against the counter, he looks at Five as he raises the mug to his lips and takes a small sip. His gaze flickers down to Five's lip again, noticing the cut is no longer bleeding, but it's still noticeable. He motions towards it with his cup. "So, what the hell happened to you?" He asks, raising a brow. He's genuinely curious, but he's also just hoping for a conversation that Five won't leave in the middle of.  
  
Five had tried to will Diego not to come closer, but it would seem that no matter how iron his will is, he can't control other people. That was Allison's power. What he wouldn't give to rumor Diego to walk out of the room right now. 

Diego coming into his space has several immediate effects. One, Five feels his heart rate pick up, like a fluttering teenager about to hold hands with a crush for the first time at a school dance. Two, Diego puts his body between Five and the coffee pot he'd been jealously hoarding like a dragon. And three, and perhaps most importantly, Five can _smell_ him again. That sunshine-and-leather smell, all earthy and warm that Five associates with him so strongly. 

He didn't think it could get worse, but then Diego takes a sip and speaks, and he can smell the coffee on his breath. All at once Five is reminded of the mornings that he and Diego would find a tin of coffee somewhere out in the wilds, and how they would spend a few days with a comforting morning cup brewed through a square of old pantyhose, lying side by side in whatever lean-to they'd constructed, talking about where they wanted to walk that day and sharing coffee-flavored kisses. Smell has a way of triggering memory that no other sense does, and it punches him in the stomach so strongly he could have mistaken the man beside him for leaning over to drive it there himself. 

He warps across the room just to get away from that smell, putting the dining table between himself and Diego as a physical barrier, under the guise of making himself comfortable. He pulls the chair out and sits down, relenting to a conversation with the man. Maybe if they had a pleasant exchange, Diego would be content and leave him alone. 

"Klaus punched me in the face," he answers, taking a sip of his own bitter coffee. Black, the way they shared it in the wastes. Not like milk or sugar were in massive supply. "Or did you mean in general?"  
  
While Diego had missed Five, he definitely hadn’t missed his warping. He’d always assumed Five did it to show off when they were kids. Five didn’t need to prove himself anymore, yet here he was, jumping a few feet across the room instead of just walking. Diego resists the urge to roll his eyes as he sets the cup of coffee down on the counter behind him. 

It’s better than Five just completely leaving again, so he endures it. 

He arches an eyebrow at the other man, arms coming to tuck around his chest, one ankle crossing over the other as he leans back against the counter. “Hm, didn’t think Klaus had it in him.” He says, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a grin, but Diego hides it with another sip of his coffee. 

He remembers the gentle glide of Klaus’ thumb over Five’s lip and briefly, Diego can’t pin the feeling that’s manifesting in his head. It isn’t Five’s lips he’s focused on, although he remembers the way those lips felt, like velvet when they met his own. He doesn’t want to kiss Five and the mere idea just doesn’t sit right with Diego - he’s nearly 30 and even though Five is twice his age, he looks 13. It’s weird, he decides, almost too quickly. 

The second part of Five’s question processes in Diego‘s mind. He shrugs, holding his mug level with his chest as he looks at Five with a curious expression. “If you wanna indulge me in the details, I’ll listen.” He offers. He almost moves to pull up a chair across from Five, but he stays put, not wanting to test his luck when he was already skating on thin ice.  
  
"I don't," Five says elusively. It's not that he doesn't think Diego would listen, or be sympathetic. That sympathy is exactly what he dreads. Not to mention that his experience in the apocalypse is so intrinsically wrapped up in Diego that at this point he wouldn't even know where to start unweaving the threads that make up the yarn of his memories. How to remove the man standing across from him from the tapestry of his lived experience well enough to play a convincing role. 

Then again, maybe he doesn't need to hide the fact that he had someone, if it came down to it. He could claim it's out of respect for the other person that he doesn't share any details. It's something to think about, at least. 

The crux of it is that he just doesn't want to talk to Diego that long. He can feel the wall he's built around himself ever since Diego's passing start to crumble brick by brick, the more time he spends in Diego's presence. His self control is legendary in all things, _except_ for the man in front of him now. The urge to warp across the room and cling to his chest like a spider monkey is so strong that his powers nearly mistake the thought for a command, and there's just a whisper of blue light at his fingertips, so slight that if Diego had blinks he would miss it. 

Five lifts his coffee to his mouth for a sip, distracting himself with the scald of the beverage as it makes a track down his throat and burns a hole into his stomach.  
  
Diego makes a soft sound, something of disbelief with a slight undertone of irritation. It's clear that Five wants nothing to do with him, but he hasn't left yet, even though Diego could have sworn he'd seen the slightest flash of blue. He blinks and Five is still there, sipping his black coffee like a grumpy old man who can't function without it. It takes Diego a moment to realize that he actually is.

Five isn't going to open up to him and that's fine - Diego isn't looking to hear his sob story. All he wants is a smidge of a conversation that reminds him of why he'd been the closest to Five growing up, why he didn't mind when the other boy crept into his bed and woke him up at three in the morning, why his stutter had seemingly gotten worse after Five disappeared. Five won't even give him that and Diego wonders why he's trying so hard. 

But he never knows when to stop, does he? Vanya said it herself the other night and Diego practically scoffs as her words replay in his head, but it doesn't stop the feeling that begins creeping up the back of his throat. He takes a sip of his coffee to wash it down, but it's not strong enough. 

"Suit yourself." He says, closing that conversation. He lets a moment of silence fall between them, but he's afraid if he lets it linger for too long, Five will take that as an opportunity to leave. He looks at him, still dressed in their old uniform, tie still perfectly knotted and the socks still pulled to their appropriate height and makes Diego itch when he remembers what the weight of it all felt like. "You know nobody's making you wear that." He motions to his clothes with a nod of his head.  
  
Five looks down at himself briefly with Diego's scrutiny, and scoffs slightly. "It's all that fits," he admits, taking another sip of coffee. The level has gone down too far, but in order to get more he'd have to brave drawing near to Diego, and that feels impossible to consider. "It's not like we had civvies growing up. Besides, if you get too caught up in what you're wearing instead of why, you run the risk of looking like a knock-off batman."

Sitting back in his seat, he crosses his ankles and dares to look at Diego. It's hard to do so. When he'd first found Diego, buried under the rubble of the school, he'd been wearing something very similar to what he's wearing now. With his harnesses full of knives, that Five pocketed and they used for the rest of their lives in the wastes to protect themselves from predators, cut ropes, prepare food and perform minor surgery on themselves. Those same knives attached to Diego now, Five's hand knows the curve of intimately. 

"Not that I'm speaking about anyone in particular, of course," he says coyly, and even offers a smug little smirk.

Diego's eyes narrow almost instinctively at Five. He's heard that one enough times that it rarely bothers him anymore, but hearing it from Five is new. It's not like Five even knows what he does, he's just judging him based on how he's dressed and for some reason, it stings a little more than he expected it to. 

"I'd rather look like that than like some pervert's wet dream." He says with a shrug and sets his cup of coffee down on the counter behind him. He briefly wonders, if Five had continued to grow up with them in their world and not an apocalyptic wasteland, what he'd look like. He imagines sharp features, long limbs, and a smart sense of style. The thought makes Diego's heart yearn in a way that he can't necessarily wrap his head around, so he quickly shoves it to the back of his mind. 

"This outfit's functional for my lifestyle." He looks down at his all-black outfit for a moment, adjusting the knife clipped to his belt before his gaze returns to Five. "Careful going around in yours or someone might call the principal on you."  
  
"Your _lifestyle_ ," Five tips his cup back to drain the last of his coffee, and has no choice but to come closer to Diego for more. Silencing the beating of his heart as if stepping on it with his heel, he warps over beside the man with a flash of blue, and reaches past him for the pot in order to pour a fresh cup. "Diego, I had no idea. The tight black clothes, the harness-- tell me, how long have you been into BDSM?" 

Diego takes another sip of coffee as Five approaches him, moving over just enough to give himself space to get to the pot. With the mug still raised to his lips, he nearly chokes on a mouthful of the liquid at Five’s question. He swallows quickly, feeling the warmth begin to spread up his neck and Diego’s thankful that his turtleneck covers most of it, as Five warps back over to the other side of the table, taking himself out of Diego's space as quickly as he can get away with. It might look like showing off, when he could just as easily use his legs to walk around the table, but putting distance between himself and his brother with as much speed as possible is paramount.  
  
“I’m not _Klaus,_ ” Diego says, deflecting the question as he watches Five settle back into the chair at the table. He sets his empty cup back down, gaze flickering towards the nearly empty pot. He doesn’t want any more, but he wants something else to focus on instead of just Five. He decides against it, instead turning to place his cup in the sink.  
  
"What then, _praytell_ , is the harness for, if it isn't to string you up by your nethers?" Five asks, crossing one leg over the other and looping his arm casually over the back of his chair. 

He should just end the conversation here. He should cut his losses and just warp upstairs, enjoy his coffee in peace. He only has an extremely limited window in which to relax before he gets back to work on his mission, and he shouldn't waste it playing this game with Diego. Knowing him and how he feels about the man, he's liable to lose track of time. He could always lose track of time with Diego.  
  
“It’s for holding my knives.” Diego says like it’s obvious, and it should be. He’d had them all strapped to him yesterday, which had definitely been overkill for their father’s funeral, but Diego really hadn’t put that much thought into it, and he simply didn’t care. 

After rinsing out his mug, he slowly turns back around to face Five, arms folding over his chest now that he doesn’t have anything to hold in his hands. “And it’s cool as hell.” He adds, just the slightest hint of amusement on his face. Five will probably roll his eyes, but Diego would be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to egg him on.  
  
"Up for debate," Five says coolly. 

Get out, his brain screams at him. Get out while you still can. Get out of this room, get out of his space. Get out of his line of sight, stop _looking_ at him, stop making eye contact, stop indulging him. The more you interact with him the harder this gets, the worse this gets, get out, _get out_ , **_get out_**. He doesn't move a muscle.  
  
Up for debate in Diego’s terms means keep going, so that’s exactly what Diego does. “You know, you could look this cool, too.” He says, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We’ll get you a black outfit, maybe a harness of your own - you’ll be all set to patrol with me.” 

He doesn’t really know why he said that. Revealing exactly what it is he does to Five will just open the door to another series of jokes that Diego won’t find funny and Five will find amusing. Still, the words hang in the air and Diego can practically see them, but his hands are locked at his sides and he can’t grab them.

If Diego had been expecting jokes, however, he would have another thing coming. Five's chest clenches as that particular piece of information passes through his brain and grabs hold of his grey matter with both hands. 

" _Patrol?"_ he repeats the word coldly, as all the clues click into place one after another like the pieces of a puzzle. The Diego he'd known could remember so little of his past, so little of his family even, that he was never able to really elaborate to Five on anything he'd done in the years between Five's disappearance and when his brother found him. But it makes sense, looking at Diego now. It makes so much sense that he feels stupid for ever considering otherwise. 

What would the alternative been? Diego getting a _job?_ Becoming a nine-to-fiver? After the childhood they led? The thought of Diego willingly putting himself in danger makes his entire body seize up with anger-- most of it not directed at Diego. Anger towards their father, fury for what he'd put them through, how incapable they'd all be made for ordinary lives.

" _Don't_ tell me you're still doing the super hero thing, Diego," he says, his voice remarkably more cold and dark than Diego might have been anticipating.

Diego tries not to visibly react at the ice in Five’s tone, but his tone hits him a like a sudden cold breeze on a warm night. “No, I’m not doing the fucking super hero thing.” He says quickly. He doesn’t want to give Five any time to jump to conclusions. He doesn’t want him to think that he’d stuck around here all these years doing exactly what their father wanted. He didn’t pull a Luther - he did his own thing. “I’m doing the _vigilante_ thing.” He adds, but he leaves it at that. He doesn’t need to tell Five that he’d tried to do it the right way, but his methods had been too bold for the Police Academy. He could already imagine what Five would say and it wasn’t something Diego needed to hear - it would most likely echo his father’s words.

"That's _not_ better," Five says abruptly, standing up and leaning his hands on the table. He can feel his heart pounding again, and it had only barely started to calm down in the first place. It's kicked back up into high gear as he pictures Diego out there alone at night, putting himself in legal and physical danger. Clearly it didn't matter in the end because he also found himself at the academy when it collapsed, and joined Five in the future-- but if Five's successful in his mission and saves the world and Diego keeps up his vigilantism? There's no telling the danger his future could hold.

"Do you _get off_ on it?" he accuses, meaner than he meant for it to sound, bile climbing in his throat. "You couldn't think of a single other thing to do with your life, so you pretend our pitiful childhood was meaningful by clinging to the past?" He's a hypocrite, he knows. He joined a bureau of assassins-- but that had been his only choice. And besides, Diego doesn't know that. "Are you that incapable of thinking for yourself? Or do you _like_ fitting the exact mold our father made for you? Is this your miserable effort to still battle for that spot of Number One? Did dad even _know_ what you were doing?"

Diego arches an eyebrow as Five suddenly stands up, leaning against the table like he’s ready to scold him and Diego honestly didn’t expect him to, but Five’s words hit his ears with intensity and heat. He feels like he’s 12 again, standing in his father’s office with a bandage covering the delicate stitches on the cut above his ear, his eyes drilling holes into the rug beneath his feet as Reginald tells him, once again, how disappointed he is in him. 

He swallows thickly, his molars grinding against each other in an attempt to keep his mouth shut, but Diego speaks before he thinks. “I _do_ think for myself.” He says, his voice low and slow. The last thing he wants to do is stutter right now, but he can feel it in the back of his throat, catching on the words he’s forming and all Diego can do is stand there and wait for it to pass. “You’d know that if you had actually been here.”

"Oh, do you? Do you think for yourself? Is that why you're strapped up and ready to throw down at a moment's notice, just like we were taught?" 

_Tell him you want him to be soft_ , a voice in the back of Five's mind screams at him. Tell him you want that for him more than anything. Tell him you want him to have the chance to be gentle. Tell him you _know_ he's capable of that gentleness, tell him you want to protect him from everything your father ever taught you. Tell him he deserves to _rest_. 

"I thought you were better than this." Swing and a miss. Not even close.  
  
The words hit Diego like his knives always hit their target - sharp, precise, and painful. They burn as he swallows them down, but they rise back up almost instantly, ringing in his ears as he forces them down again. He doesn’t want to compare Five to their father when he knows he’s nothing like what that man was, but the words are strikingly similar and he can’t help but jump to that conclusion. 

“I _am_.” Diego says simply, pushing himself off the counter. He stands in front of the table for the moment, physically standing up to Five, but he still feels like a cowering child underneath his intense glare. He holds his head high, though, a skill he’s been building since he was younger. “You wanna talk about being ‘better than this’, then bring it up with somebody else.”

"As long as you're out there crawling around on the fucking streets looking for validation in the arms of petty crime victims, you're not," Five hisses, his instinct _screaming_ at him to back down, to keep it in. He's only making things worse. Stop _yelling_ at him, god damn it. This isn't what you want to do, this isn't _you_. Look him in the eyes and remind yourself how much you love him. 

Tell him you want the callouses on his hands to have time to fade. Tell him you want him to take up beekeeping again, like you did before. Tell him you want him to use those knives to whittle more spoons than either of you could ever use in a lifetime. Tell him how much you wish he would have a chance to put those knives back down again after. "Get a fucking _hobby_ , Diego, jesus christ." 

The cognitive dissonance between his brain and mouth right now is making his hands shake, and he's grateful for the table flat underneath them or Diego would definitely be able to tell.  
  
Anger takes over Diego just as the initial shock of the situation fades. His hands come down to grip the back of the chair in front of him, fingers curling around it with a white-knuckle grip. It’s either that or reach for the knife clipped to his belt and he really doesn’t want it to come to that. 

“What, are you bitter?” He asks, glaring across the table at Five. “I’ve made a life for myself while you sat on your ass for forty-five years?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly as he moves away from the table, hands falling back to his sides but his fingers automatically curl into his palms. “Don’t act like you still know me, because you don’t.”

The words hit Five like a freighter. In a sense, he _doesn't_ know Diego, not _this_ Diego. He knew the Diego who existed when they were kids, and he knows the Diego who will exist in 8 short days if he isn't successful, but _this_ Diego, the one who's existed in the entire time Five has been gone-- he's an enigma. He's a mystery, a goddamn ghost. Five's chest clenches up hard. 

"Yeah, I'm _bitter_. I'm really bitter that you made yourself into a discount super-hero while I _sat on my ass_ for forty-five years. The whole time I was there, you know what I was thinking? GOD I wish I had some zip ties right now so I could bust someone holding up a convenience store! Just once, and my life would be complete!"

Stop while you're ahead, he screams at himself, his hands balled into fists at his side. _Stop_ being mean to him for fuck's sake, _look at him_. He's different, but he's the same man. Just tell him you're worried. Four little fucking words, _I'm worried about you_ , that's all it'll take. Just get those four words out. 

"I think you're pathetic," he says instead, and his stomach turns for it.  
  
Diego is halfway across the kitchen by the time Five’s done ranting at him. He doesn’t want to stand there and be berated by him anymore, and walking away is the smartest decision. For once, he thinks about it, refusing to act on the urge to grab Five by the collar of his shirt, slam him into the wall, and yell at him until he’s feeling the same way Diego currently is. 

The next words, however, stop Diego dead in his tracks in the doorway to the kitchen. Diego forgets to think, his hand reaching for the blade tucked into his belt, fingers curling around the smooth handle of it. He whips around to face Five as he throws it, watching it sink into the table a few inches away from his forgotten cup of coffee. 

Diego’s chest rises and falls with the heavy breaths he’s taking in as he crosses the floor back towards the table. He keeps his eyes locked on Five’s as he pulls his knife out of the table, clutching it tightly, but doesn’t put it away yet. “I don’t _care_ what you think.” He says, but his voice doesn’t sound as strong as he wanted it to. It’s a lie and both of them know it.  
  
Five is... a lot shorter than Diego, he realizes, with the man looming over him now. A head and a half shorter than him, at least. He'd gotten taller when they lived together after the apocalypse-- not much, but a little bit. He's really feeling those few inches now that he's using them against him. 

Drawing himself up to his full height, he narrows his eyes at his brother. His entire body aches to close the distance between them, throw his arms around him, sink into some of that softness that still exists somewhere in the darkest, deepest trenches of his mind. He can't bear to move a finger, much less embrace the man currently seething over him like a mountain lion. Anger is so much more comfortable than the syrupy mess his stomach turns into every time Diego enters a room, and so he leans into it.

"Put your toys away Diego, you're making a mess," he says coldly, his jaw flexing and lips twitching in a mean smirk.  
  
Diego can feel his face twitch even though he’s trying his hardest to keep it level. The vein in his forehead is pulsing, pumping hot blood into his face, down his neck. His complexion is a shade darker than it had been before and not in the same way that Five had caused the blush to creep up his neck minutes ago. 

He grits his teeth as he shoves his knife back into his belt, making a show of stepping away from the table, but he doesn’t look away from Five yet. The other man is trying to look intimidating, but it’s hard when he has to look up to do so. Even so, in the body of the boy Diego had once been so enamored with, it’s working. 

He stops in the doorway again, looking over his shoulder at Five. It’s childish, but he isn’t going to let him get the last word. “Sure thing... _Dad_.” He mumbles before he retreats from the kitchen. The last word is still bitter on his tongue and Diego has to resist the urge to spit it out. It’s a low blow, putting the comparison to words when he knew Five had his own quarrels with their father, but Diego’s still hurt and he only knows how to fight fire with fire.  
  
Five holds his chin up as Diego makes his retreat, letting him selfishly take the final, petty word for himself, but as soon as those heavy boots clomp up the stairs, all the fire goes out of him and he sags back into his chair at the kitchen table, bending over to rest his burning forehead against the cool table top, and he runs his hands through his hair so hard that his scalp burns with it. 

Would it really have been so fucking hard to be nice, he yells at himself. Or even just to be _neutral_. His eyes burn with the familiar sting of tears that haven't fallen in years and years. He didn't even cry but once after Diego died, and ever since the Commission worked him over, he doubts he even has the _ability_ to cry anymore, but he can feel the urge burning behind his eyes. The tears never do come. 


	3. Chapter 3

The only thing Five can do at this point is refocus his mind on the mission, and so he does. He needs to get out of the house, get somewhere else, put some fucking distance between him and this house. The coffee shop he takes himself to turns out to be a bust when Commission agents come after him, but taking the tracker out of his arm should have helped with that. He has to go somewhere unexpected to avoid anyone who might tail him after, and as he's warping across town as erratically as he can think to, he finds himself standing in front of a clothing department store.

Diego's words come back to him, accusing him of look like a pervert's schoolboy wet dream-- maybe he _could_ use some full length pants. He'd like to think he's not doing it for Diego, but... maybe if the man saw him in something other than his uniform shorts, he wouldn't think of him as a child. Wishful thinking. 

It's made all the worse, when the Commission manages to track him _there_ , too. They seem to be crack shots, but at least one bullet manages to make it through the meat of his arm. Careless, stupid. He should have been better.  
  
He visits Vanya shortly after that to try and get some idea of what he should do next, feeling as though he's been largely spinning his wheels this entire time-- and she's honestly a breath of fresh air. Refreshingly normal, calm, and most importantly, not Diego. He lets her tend to the cut where he'd pried out the tracker, but doesn't bother drawing attention to the bullet wound on his bicep. There's no point in worrying her over something so small, and he'd rather not take off his jacket and reveal to her how scrawny he is now. It's embarrassing. 

He tends to that one himself, after returning home, unpacking his medical kit and pulling out suture thread, a curved needle, hydrogen peroxide and an ancient box of "billy the choo choo" bandaids. Beggars can't be choosers.  
  
Diego's blood had run hot for a while after what happened in the kitchen. He throws in a couple rounds in the ring at the gym, which usually does wonders to clear his head, but the rush he gets from pinning one of the larger guys on the mat, his knee digging into their sternum, is over just as soon as it starts. ' _Get a fucking hobby, Diego_...' he hears Five's words repeat in the back of his mind. He grits his teeth and leaves the ring. 

More of Five's words replay in his head when he sets up his police scanner that night, and when he hears the report of shots fired at the department store around the corner. He doesn't hesitate, but he hears Five call him pathetic again as he straps his harness on. 

Patch is already there by the time Diego gets there, her crime scene unit beginning to set up. She lets him in, begrudgingly, with a warning not to touch anything, but that's a suggestion, not an order, and with a leather-clad hand, Diego picks a stray bullet up off the ground. They both come to the same conclusion and the other details that she provides him with don't make the situation any more clear, but the mystery is a distraction from the pounding headache that is Five. 

She accuses him of not actually caring, to which Diego replies, "I do give a shit" and he chalks that up to the reason he's pulling back up to the academy. He doesn't have a real reason to come back - he's in the middle of burning all his bridges with his siblings, he still doesn't buy Luther's plot that somebody killed their father, but he feels a pull and Diego listens.  
  
He makes his way through the house, fingers tracing the trim on one side of the wall in the hallway that leads towards their old bedrooms. It's quiet and for a moment, he doubts anyone is here and he can't pin if that's a good or bad thing. He stops outside Five's bedroom, the door slightly ajar as he peers inside, seeing the man sitting on the edge of his bed, stripped down to just his undershirt, a nasty wound in his bicep. 

Not thinking about the way the two had parted ways yesterday, Diego slowly pushes the door open, but doesn't step through the threshold. "Need a hand?" He asks, his eyes flickering between the wound and the medical supplies laid out in front of Five.  
  
This time, Five _does_ startle. He'd been so lost in the process of disinfecting his wound, a process which took all of his will power not to scream through as the wound bubbles and runs bloody foam down his arm, that there wasn't any room left in his head for taking inventory of his surroundings. A sloppy move. Someone could have gotten the drop on him. 

He visibly flinches, eyes darting up wild towards the door like he's expecting a predator, every muscle in his body tensing up at once. there's no mild surprise here, Five reacts with his whole body in a single instant like he's afraid he's going to die. It'd be heartbreaking to witness, if Five's expression didn't immediately twist into annoyance at the sight of Diego.

"Jesus christ, _of course_ you're here," he says, the words leaving his mouth unbidden like the bullet of a gun, sharp and quick and effortless. His anger is unwarranted, he knows it's a mix of adrenaline and pain and fear. Diego has never deserved his anger. He can't shake out of his mind the last words the man said to him on his way out of the kitchen, the callous and entirely warranted comparison he'd made between Five and the man who hurt his siblings. 

Hurt him too, arguably, but that feels like such small potatoes compared to everything else.  
  
Diego notices the scared expression on Five's face for a moment, but in a flash it's replaced with that same annoyed one that he's been giving him since he got back. Five doesn't invite him in, but he moves in anyway. He's playing a dangerous game, but Diego always had preferred to live on the edge. 

He shoves yesterday's interaction to the back of his mind. Five is hurt and Diego throws his pride out the window. He knows Five could probably take care of this himself, but Diego's gotten pretty good at patching himself up over the years. The sight of a needle and thread still makes him nauseous, but only when it's going through his own skin. Patching up Five shouldn't be an issue.

If the other man lets him.

"What happened?" He asks, coming to stand in front of Five. He can see the injury better now - a deep gash that he'd attribute to a bullet wound. The thought of someone shooting at Five is enough to make his blood boil, especially when he just looks like some innocent kid. Diego doesn't have a lot of faith in humanity, but he would have liked to think that nobody would be shooting at somebody who looks like Five.

"Nasty papercut," Five says icily as he uses a tissue to mop the bloody foam sluggishly sliding down his arm. "I can handle it."

He _can_ handle it, but that's not entirely the point. He has fond memories of Diego and him patching one another up after various injuries, lovingly rendering stitches, holding one another through the shakes after a particularly nasty cauterization. Medical supplies came few and far between in the wastes, and they became adept at doing whatever it took to ward off infection. In the end it didn't really matter, it was infection that took Diego anyway, from a wound as innocuous as the one severing the skin on Five's skinny bicep now. 

Shame fills him quickly as he glances up at Diego from his own scrawny arm. Diego's own arm is more than twice the circumference of his own, strong and vital. Diego had been muscular when Five first found him, and though he lost a little bit of weight in the wasteland just from the lack of proper nutrition, he'd always remained hearty as an ox, stocky and strong and powerful. Five had never thought much of it when he was coming up because he'd been a child, there had been no shame in being small. 

But comparing himself to Diego now, comparing himself to _himself_ , even, the man he'd once been-- shame fills his stomach like bile. Once he could have given Diego a run for his money, his own body corded and cut with the kind of muscle that's deep set from years of labor, the walking and climbing and fighting off predators that made up their daily lives giving them both the hardened appearance of men who had to struggle to survive. And now he looks at himself, all smooth and pale and skinny, and he feels like another person entirely. 

He measures out a length of thread and fits it through the eye of the curved needle, as a rivulet of blood slinks slowly down his arm, leaving a rich red track in its wake against the porcelain skin of his arm. Something he won't bother to clean up until he's done.  
  
“Must have been a giant piece of paper, huh?” Diego comments, watching Five try to wipe up as much of the blood as he can, a collection of red tissues sitting on the bed next to him. He still feels the familiar lurch of his stomach when Five picks up the needle, but he steadies himself with a deep breath. 

Five said he could handle it, but Diego doesn’t know if he necessarily believes that. He can see the subtle shake in Five’s hand as his small fingers thread the needle and he knows Five is probably perfectly capable of doing it himself, but from experience, he also knows it makes it a hell of a lot easier to not have to focus on what you’re doing. 

He moves closer, sinking onto the edge of the mattress beside Five, one hand coming up to grip his wrist on his injured arm. Five’s skin is hot underneath his touch and Diego watches the way his thumb covers his middle finger as his hand settles around the skinny wrist. “Hey. Let me.” He says, directing his attention back to Five as he holds his free hand out for the needle and thread.  
  
Five's body seizes up again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Diego's palm feels unacceptably large and uncommonly hot against his skin-- and in an instant he takes stock of how very... soft it is. For all that Diego might like to think of himself as a hardened badass, his hand is smooth and plush against Five's wrist, free from the hard knobs of callouses that once shielded his hand from weather and harm. Five had grown so accustomed to the feeling of those firm hands, layered like granite, that feeling it now against his skin so tender and supple just puts into sharp perspective all over again that this isn't the man he knew, no matter how badly it burns in his gut that he wants him to be. 

There's a selfish part of him that wants to take Diego for his own anyway, regardless of whether this Diego would even want that. He knows he could do it, too. He'd had plenty of years to learn all of Diego's weaknesses and secrets, he knew how to exploit every line and muscle of Diego's body, manipulate him like a puppet. But there's an even _more_ selfish part of him that wants to hold back just in case he fails this mission, to leave Diego as he is now to be found by his past self in just seven days. 

He can't allow himself to think like that. Diego's hand on him is putting dangerous thoughts in his head. As always, anger is easier to tolerate than any other emotion Diego makes him feel. Longing, regret, guilt, grief, lust. Anger is easier than all of it. 

So flustered by the touch, he doesn't think to warp across the room, which would free him in an instant from Diego's grasp. Instead he yanks at the grip on his wrist with a sharp but firm, "Don't _TOUCH_ me."

Diego’s eyes widen slightly as Five tugs on his wrist, harder than he’d expected, but he doesn’t let go yet. He knows that he should, but Diego can’t bring himself to because Five is acting like it’s the worst thing in the world to accept somebody’s help. Diego’s prideful, too, but he still doesn’t let go. 

“I’m just trying to help you.” He insists, his own voice firmer than it had been a minute ago. He doesn’t want this to be another scene between the two of them, all he wants is to help Five and just rekindle some shred of the closeness they had growing up, but the growing fear that he’ll never get that satisfaction continues to grow inside him. 

“C’mon, Five.” He tries again, his hand still outstretched for the needle and thread, even though the look on Five’s face is enough to make him second-guess his insistence.  
  
Panic wells up in Five's chest, buried deep under the anger. The anger is comfortable, like an old pair of shoes, the kind he doesn't even need to untie the laces of to slip his feet inside. Anger is what he's sunk into to survive the last 15 years alone. It doesn't matter that Diego doesn't deserve his anger, he's not even thinking about that anymore. It curls around his throat and lashes out like a viper with the instinct to protect. 

Protect himself from what? _Diego?_ How he feels about Diego, more likely. How easily he could lose himself in that grip, how easily he could hand over that needle and just luxuriate in the care his brother wants to give him. How easily he could selfishly lean into that touch on his wrist. 

This Diego isn't his. He can't take him. He has to come to terms with the fact that his story with Diego has ended, even if this Diego's story has yet to begin with Five. It's enough to make him want to heave. 

Finally, his wits gathered, he warps out of Diego's grip, standing on the other side of the room instead. That anger comes out of him in a horrible miasma that chokes even him. "Get OUT." he points towards the door furiously, teeth bared like a dog. "I don't WANT you here, Diego. Have you taken one too many blows to the head to be able to take a fucking _HINT?_ Do I really need to spell it OUT for you?"

Diego feels the warmth beside him fade before he even realizes Five has warped away, staring down the empty space where Five’s wrist had been, his fingers now just clutching cold air. He looks up just as Five appears by the doorway, motioning him out with a ferocity in his voice that Diego’s never heard before. 

The words are like punch to the gut, like a cigarette extinguishing on the palm of his hand, like a stray knife grazing the side of his temple. They burn as Diego swallows them down, but they rise back up, threatening to also bring back the breakfast Diego had consumed that morning. 

Part of him had just hoped that Five was playing him, like a dumb joke that they’d laugh about in a few months, but no part of Five’s demeanor suggested this was anything other than pure anger and Diego was rendered speechless for a moment, Five once again reducing him to feeling like a scolded child. 

“What the _fuck_ , Five?” He says once he finally finds the will to speak, pushing himself to his feet, but he remains where he is beside the bed. His voice is nowhere near as strong or level as Five’s is and that alone is enough to make Diego feel even worse.

 _He's hurting_ , Five hears a voice scream at him from somewhere in the depths of his mind, you're hurting him. Look at his face, look in his eyes. You're _hurting_ him. 

He has to wonder whether this part of history was already written. Maybe he, too, was already buried under the rubble of the school, the same rubble he found Diego under and he just didn't dig deep enough. Maybe there was a hidden part in Diego's empty mind that always held onto the memory of the day that Five screamed at him, just like he's doing now. Maybe he has the power to shape that secret memory into something softer, something kinder. He knows he doesn't.

"You just can't leave me alone, can you?" Five shouts, blood running down the back of his hand and dripping off his fingertips, scattering the ground with blood droplets. "Since I fell out of the fucking sky you've been up my ass and around the corner! Haven't I put off enough clues that I don't _want you around?"_

It's not true, it isn't true. Then again it _is_ true. The duality of it makes his head spin. He both does and doesn't want to be near Diego, has both a desperate desire to be near him and stay away. His selfishness is almost immeasurable, and the lengths to which he'd go for the man he's currently trying to push away are unfathomable. He's a desperate enigma, standing with locked and shaking knees in front of the man he loves more than life itself. All he wants to do is cry.  
  
Diego’s breath hitches in the back of his throat, his gaze lowering as Five continued, repeating the same thing that apparently hadn’t hit Diego the first time. Now it felt like he’d been hit by a car and Five was the driver, plowing him down without even looking in the rear view mirror. He refuses to believe it, though. He stares at the blood dripping off Five’s hand, a nauseous feeling settling over him, but not because of the blood. 

“Th-that’s...” Diego begins to say, but he cuts himself off when he can’t form the first word. They’re sitting ready in his mouth, but he can’t even get them past his tongue. He can hear Mom’s voice in the back of his mind - just picture the word in your mind, Diego, she tells him, but the thought of needing to listen to his mother’s advice just because his brother is yelling at him makes Diego even more choked up. 

“That’s not _true_.” He finishes, and he doesn’t stutter, but his voice is weak, uncharacteristically like him, or at least the image of himself he’s been trying so hard to build. It took him years, but Five manages to tear it down in the matter of a few days.

"Oh, you think it's not true?" Five closes the distance, grinning like a mad cat. It feels like he's being puppeteered by his anger, turned into something he doesn't feel, violated by his own wrath. That's exactly what the Commission did to him, so he can't really be surprised. "What, you thought I'd come home and we'd just be friends again, is that what you thought? You thought I'd reappear and we'd pick up right where we left off?"

 _Stop hurting him_ , he begs. _Stop_ making him small. You would kill anyone in the world for making him look the way you're making him look right now.

"Are you that fucking _desperate_ , Diego?" he gestures angrily with his hand, flicking blood droplets across Diego's cheek and lower lip. Painting him with his own goddamn viscera. That's what he's doing already though, isn't it? He's unloading on Diego, entirely unworthy of his fury. Maybe that's the crux of it-- maybe if Five is awful enough, maybe he can chase him away. Maybe he can protect Diego from him. "All these years and you haven't fucking moved on?"

Those words leave his mouth like a bullet. He didn't even mean to say them. Drawing attention to the unspoken bond the two of them used to share... the irony isn't lost on him. If anyone, _he's_ the one who's not over Diego. Maybe he's projecting.

Diego doesn’t know why he feels like cowering when Five moves closer. He doesn’t cower at Luther, or the guys at the boxing gym, or even his father once he reached a certain age. He doesn’t flinch at his words, but the feeling of something warm and wet landing on his face is enough for him to blink in surprise. He raises his hand to his cheek, wiping at his face before pulling it back just enough to see red and the realization set in that Five had flicked his blood on him. 

His hand falls bleakly back down to his side, working up the courage to bite back at Five, but he suddenly feels the hot pin-prick of tears in the corners of his eyes as Five digs that can of worms out of the ground and opens them without so much as a shred of hesitation. 

He _has_ moved on. He’d spent the last 15 years thinking Five was dead, or at least never coming back. He’d _forced_ himself to move on, to see other people, to fill that hole in his heart that Five had seemingly filled so perfectly once. He didn’t necessarily even want what he’d once had with him. He just wanted to feel like Five was his _friend_ again. 

“F-fuck y-y-you.” He spits, his lower lip, still painted with Five’s blood, trembling. It’s pathetic - no, _he’s_ pathetic, Five’s voice reminds him in his head. He finally finds the courage to move, slowly crossing the room towards the door, but stops in front of Five, holding his gaze with what he thought was an angry frown, but he just looked more like a kicked puppy.  
  
Five just teleports to the other side of him to give him a clear shot to the door, and doesn't turn around to watch him leave despite how badly he aches. 

It feels like a new, little death every time one of them leaves the room mad, but Five reminds himself that it's all for the greater good. Save the world, and give Diego a chance at a peaceful life when all this is done. Let him find a husband or a wife, settle down, have a normal life and then die _normal_ one day, in a hospice bed somewhere, surrounded by people who love him. Five would do anything to keep him from dying of an infection in the middle of a wasteland with only one person left on earth who even remembered his name. Even if that meant chasing him away from him. 

Five has nothing to offer him anymore. Perhaps if the Commission hadn't sunk their claws into him, ripped out his gooey insides and replaced it with all the worst parts of all the worst people in history, maybe he could still be good to Diego, if he even wanted him. But that ship has very handily sailed, now. 


	4. Chapter 4

All Five can do is focus on the mission, and so he does. 

Until he doesn't. 

Finding the lab up in flames is just about the worst thing that could have possibly happened. All the hopes he had for saving the world burn to ash inside that goddamn lab. He has no more leads, no more tracks to follow. No more loose ends to chase down, this eye was _it_. The eye he'd carried around for 45 fucking years, and it was all for nothing. All he can do is get himself so drunk that he doesn't care anymore. So drunk that he doesn't _care_ that he'd just doomed Diego to the miserable fate the two of them lived together for the rest of Diego's mortal life. So drunk that he doesn't _care_ that he dies in an empty world populated by nothing but memories. Five is the judge, jury and fucking executioner in the case of Diego's life.  
  
Well. The world wasn't completely empty. Sprawled out on the floor in a building he doesn't even remember coming into, Five stares blearily down at his knuckles, at the offending blank flesh of his left ring finger, where once there was a single thin black line tattooed between the first and second knuckle. A line that once matched Diego's. It hurts him down to his bones that it isn't there anymore-- and so he fashions a pitiful rig from a few stripped ballpoint pens and an exacto blade he breaks into a finer point himself, and sets to work to fix that.  
  
Diego wished he could say that the last fight with Five had been the worst part of the day, but it was minuscule compared to what happened later that night. The masked intruders from the department store had invaded their home, he learned that Luther was a freak, and Mom... Diego quickly shoved _that_ part of the night to the back of his mind. 

Five hadn't been there during the attack. They hadn't needed him - Diego, Allison, and Luther took care of it themselves, and even though he'd been so cruel, Diego couldn't help but wonder where he'd gotten himself off too. He knew he shouldn't care, but he'd always done the opposite of what was best for him. 

He confides in Patch about it, how Five is missing and how Mom is dead, which turns out to be another stupid mistake Diego's made over the past few days. He contemplates keeping a list, but it can't make him feel as bad as both her and Five had within 24 hours. 

It's Luther's insistence on finding Five that draws Diego in, partially out of petty reasons, partially because even though Five doesn't want him around, Diego doesn't want him dead. He swallows his pride, only because Pogo forced him to, and works with Luther. He finds a copy of Vanya's book in a van Five had been using, the inside scrawled with Five's recognizable handwriting, and a stamp for the nearby library. "I know where to find Five." He tells Luther, passing the book off to him.  
  
They don't find him instantly. The library is huge and truthfully, he and Luther spend a moment indulging in a conversation that doesn't help them find Five, but does clear some of tension that exists between him and his monster of a brother. Their relationship will never be perfect, Diego knows that, but for now, it seems as though they can put their differences aside for the common goal of finding Five.

Diego overhears some of the employees talking about a parent-less kid and about calling security and that's enough to pique his interest. He follows them, Luther trailing a few steps behind him, until he rounds a corner and finds Five slumped against a wall, an empty bottle between his legs, books and papers scattered around him, and a hand dripping black ink. He's glad Five doesn't notice them right away, not quite ready to face him yet, and he can't decide if him being drunk is a good or bad thing. 

"Is he..." Luther begins to ask, but trails off. 

"Drunk as a skunk." Diego finishes, a smug grin beginning to tug at the corner of his lips despite his mixed emotions.  
  
At the sound of his brothers voices, Five opens his bleary eyes. His head tips back and clunks softly against the concrete behind him, a drunken smile spreading across his face as he takes in his brothers standing in front of him, the vision swaying and spinning. 

"Hey guys," he says, his voice cracking in the first real display of his young age. "Why're you soblurry?"

"Jesus christ," Luther whispers with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "Five, it's eleven am."

"S'ok," Five responds, lifting the bottle for another swig. It's a big bottle, and it's nearly empty. "Started at like... fucking... night time." 

"We gotta get him out of here before someone calls the cops," Luther mutters. "The last thing we need is the law enforcement poking around into why there's a drunk seventh-grader wearing our family's uniform."  
  
Diego shifts, looking over his shoulder at the employees that were beginning to crowd around them. This was definitely going to be a bigger problem than it needs to be if they didn't do something about it. Luther was stating the obvious and Diego resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him, knowing that wouldn't make the situation any better. 

"Pick him up, then." He instructs, and he's surprised when Luther actually listens to him. If he weren't so worried about Five exploding on him again, then he would have just done it himself. "You can carry him on your back like a little monkey." Diego grins as he says it, if anything just to keep the news from spilling about his fight with their drunk brother, and also to keep up his own appearance. 

Diego crouches down to pick up Five's things, scooping up all the stray papers and the nearly empty bottles, his finger catching on something sharp underneath a book. He hisses, pushing the book away to find a mess of pens and a broken exacto blade. He frowns, glancing back at Five's hand with black ink pooling on his fingers and the realization sets in. "He gave himself a fucking prison tattoo."  
  
"That's... weird, but we don't have the time to unpack it," Luther says as he stoops down to pick up his brother, who immediately goes limp in his arms, mumbling something and belching softly against his shoulder. The bottle slips out of Five's hands and lands on its side, spilling out the last of its contents across the floor. "Just leave it, we gotta get out of here." Diego makes a face when he hears Five belch, but doesn't say anything about it, just kicks the rest of his stuff further into the corner and begins to lead the out of the library. He glances over his shoulder at them as they walk, deciding to take them through alleyways instead of the main streets. He has a map of the city etched into his brain, shortcuts are the safest way to travel. 

"We gotta take him somewhere," Luther says. "Home isn't safe."  
  
"My place is close." Diego says before he even realized he opened his mouth. Five probably doesn't want to be at his place, probably doesn't even want their help, but there's no way in hell Diego's going to leave him like this, especially when those assholes from last night are still looking for him. "No one will look for him there." 

He glances at Five again, a mixture of irritation and gloom settling over him. He's still upset about everything Five said to him, but he's still inviting him to his apartment. Diego's never the bigger person in a situation like this and the feeling is foreign, but he tries not to let it show.

Luther carries Five there dutifully, draped over his shoulders in his arms. He vomits a couple times on the way there from all the jostling, until he's finally laid out sleepily on Diego's bed. Five's head is blissfully empty, just a swirling void of fog and the absence of thoughts. For once he doesn't have to think, to be smart, to save the world. The world is doomed, he might as well stay this drunk for the rest of it so he doesn't have to care. He gets it now, why Klaus uses. 

He isn't super aware of time passing, which is weird for him. He's usually so hyper aware of every second of every minute of every day. He keeps track of it like his body is a metronome, involuntary and inexorable. But right now his entire body is just made of pudding.

Five blinks sluggishly. Luther is there, and then he isn't. He's alone, and then he isn't. His stomach hurts, and then it doesn't. He sees Diego beside him. Diego... he looks so young like this. So innocent. He doesn't have any idea what's in store for him. What Five failed to save him from. His eyes sting with those pesky tears that refuse to fall, but his voice is thick with them when he speaks.

"Missed you," he mumbles, reaching out with the intent to take Diego by the hand, but his drunken fingers fall short and just pets the backs of his knuckles.  
  
Diego opens the door to his boiler-room apartment for Luther, catching a whiff of Five's vomit-laden breath and he quickly turns his head away. He watches Luther set him down on his bed and Diego grabs his trashcan, placing it by the edge of the bed, just in case. He really doesn't want to have to drag his sheets to the laundromat just because Five threw up in them. 

Luther doesn't hang around for long, but promises he'll be back, and Diego is simultaneously glad and annoyed. He doesn't want to sit around and make small talk to him, but he's already dreading the moment when Five becomes coherent enough to realize it's just the two of them. 

He wanders over to his bed after a while, looking down at Five, admiring him for a moment. He almost looks cute, he thinks, but the words from earlier replay in his mind and that thought fades. Five isn't cute - he's just an asshole. He slumps down on the edge of his bed beside him, watching Five stir at the movement, then he's reaching out his hand to him and murmuring words that Diego laughs at. "Yeah, right." He mumbles, pulling his hand away from Five when his fingers brush over his knuckles.  
  
Five lets out an involuntary whimper when Diego pulls away. It shoots him like a dagger through the heart, too drunk to reason out why Diego is shunning him, only that it hurts him that he does. He rolls over onto his back, the whole room spinning, and starts to miserably peel out of his jacket, rolling slightly from side to side like a turtle on its back as he tries and fails to pull off his blazer. His whole body is burning, too warm and sticky and all of his clothes feel too tight and itchy. 

"Stupid... fuck'n... uniform," he grumbles, his muscles sloppy and uncoordinated as he fails yet again to work his jacket off even one shoulder, he's just tugging pitifully at the bottom hem.  
  
Diego arches an eyebrow at the noise that leaves Fives lips, watching him roll over and turn away from him. He rolls his eyes, but he thinks he prefers this. This isn't how Five actually feels, but at least Diego can be in the same room as him without being berated, and the next time Five wanted to insult him, Diego could just mention how he'd been so drunk in his bed he couldn't even get his jacket off. 

He only watches him struggle for a few more moments before it stops being funny and starts being sad. He hesitates for a moment, an outstretched hand just lingering over Five's back, not touching him yet. Touching Five was what had started this whole mess in the first place, but still, Diego's hand slowly lowers onto his chest, gripping the collar of his jacket. "Sit up." He instructs, guiding Five up just enough so he can help him pull it off.  
  
For once Five doesn't try to fight him. He's a little wobbly on the dismount, but he manages to get upright, and allows Diego to peel his jacket off. He tugs at his tie next, which slips free without a hassle, and then finally yanks off the sweater vest, leaving him rumpled and disheveled in naught but his button down and undershirt, both of which have come untucked from his shorts. He even toes off his shoes and lets them fall to the ground with two heavy clunks, really just making himself comfortable in Diego's bed. 

"Smells like you," he mumbles as he turns onto his side again, tucking his face against Diego's pillow. "Miss that..."

He blinks blearily at the opposite wall, feeling entirely too tired to sleep. That kind of ache that settles behind his eyes, too painful to keep them closed, too tired to keep them open. He yawns, and can taste the sour in his own mouth. He grimaces, smacking his lips. 

"You know," he starts, his words spilling out of him without consulting his brain first, bypassing the fog entirely to make their way out of his mouth. "I don't think you woulda liked him... if you met'im. Funny to think about."  
  
Diego breathes out a quiet sigh of relief when Five doesn’t freak out on him, instead letting him take off his jacket and drop it on the floor along with the rest of the clothes the other man is shedding. He catches sight of the bandaged wound on Five’s arm, which looks patched up, but could probably use a new bandage. Diego doesn’t say anything, though. He doesn’t want to broach that sensitive subject. 

He arches an eyebrow as he hears Five begin to mumble, unsure if he’s talking to him or just himself. He moves over to the sink in the corner of the room, rinsing out a cup before filling it with clean water, bringing it back over to his bed. He places a hand on Five’s back again, silently willing him to roll over and he holds the glass of water out to him. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He says, indulging Five in the conversation, if it’s even a conversation that Five is willing to have. He’s expecting to be shut out at any moment. “I don’t like a lot of people, but you’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

Five drinks from the glass greedily, a good deal of it running down his chin and soaking into his shirt, but the cool liquid and opportunity to clear his mouth and throat are too tantalizing to worry about how much of a mess he makes. He drops back down flat on his back with a groan, and reaches up to scrub his eyes with one hand. 

"My husband," he murmurs, his finger throbbing, and he turns his hand over looking for injury, only to be reminded that he'd given himself the same tattoo they once shared. He grimaces, looking very much like he's about to cry, but no tears fall. He sniffs, and grinds his head back into the pillow. "I... don't think you would've liked'im."  
  
Diego takes the glass back from Five, but it nearly slips out of his hand when Five says that. “Your _what?”_ He asks incredulously, blinking a few times in confusion as he sets the glass down on his nightstand. He isn’t sure he heard Five right, but his brother continues speaking like he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb on him. 

He isn’t sure whether to believe him or not as he watches Five inspect his hand, the one with the thin black line around his ring finger and the realization hits Diego - it‘s supposed to look like a wedding band. An uneasy feeling settling over him, something akin to jealousy, but Diego will never admit that. “You’re telling me somebody actually put up with your shit and married you?”

Five laughs with no humor in his voice, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Thirty years," he mumbles, rubbing across the line etched sloppily, drunkenly into his ring finger with his opposite thumb. "Thirty years."

Still, the tears don't fall, despite how his eyes burn. He's starting to believe he actually _can't_ cry anymore. He drops his hands to his sides with a weary sigh. "You wouldn't've liked him... too soft... too gentle..." He's quite certain in fact that if this Diego met _his_ Diego, this Diego would be so furious about how tender he'd become after his head injury stripped away decades of trauma, he would become so infuriated that he would attack him outright for being such an insulting facsimile of himself. 

He wheezes softly, too drunk to regulate his emotions, his reactions. Too fucking honest. He raises that freshly-inked hand to rub over his face. "Miss him," he admits, his voice cracking and small.  
  
"Thirty _years?"_ Diego repeats, a question that he doesn't necessarily want to know the answer to, even though it's being dangled in front of him. Five wouldn't make this up just to make him jealous. It was very real and left Diego with a sour feeling in the pit of stomach. 

He should have been happy for Five, happy that he hadn't spent all these years alone, but Diego couldn't shake the bitter feeling that was eating away at him instead. He wants to stay in the dark about the whole situation, but curiosity gets the better of him, and this is the most that Five has opened up to him since he got back. "How'd you meet him?"  
  
"Found him," Five mumbles, dropping his hands back down to the bed. "Only survivor I ever found. He was... all fucked up when I found'im. Head caved in, barely alive... nursed'im back to health. Didn't even... talk for almost a year." He reaches down to start clumsily trying to remove his socks, the drunk buzz making him feel too hot all over, and his socks suddenly feel too tight and too clingy, but the liquor has turned his hands into paddles. "Took care of'im... was the only thing worth doing. Was that or just... wallow in hopelessness."

Leave it to Five to still used words like 'wallow' while absolutely sloshed. 

"Couldn't remember his name, when he was better," Five continues blearily. "Or where he came from... or anything before the 'pocalypse. Didn't know anything except me. Said all the time, I was his whole world... meant that literally."

Diego doesn't take his eyes off Five as he tells him about the man - his _husband_ , Diego corrects himself, giving his head a little shake in the process. He _isn't_ jealous. He didn't think he'd want to be one of the sole survivors of an apocalypse with only Five to keep him company, but hearing Five be so compassionate and nurturing with someone else, when he was often so cold and distant, lights a small and unpleasant fire within Diego's chest. 

He watches Five struggle with his socks and he only hesitates for a moment before reaching out to help him, strong fingers curling around his thin ankle to hold his leg in place while Diego tugged at his socks with his other hand. "What happened to him?" He asks, already figuring this isn't a happy story. He didn't think Five would be telling him all this drunk if it were.  
  
Five gives a wheezy sigh, the kind that would usually precede tears, but they don't fall on his cheeks. "We were everything," he mutters, laying back to allow Diego to pull off his socks without a fight. "We were all we had, he an'I... fought together, learned together, cried together... traveled the country. We had a dog, for a little while... didn't last. Sick."

He lets out a heavy breath, his stomach turning. "He died. Fifteen years ago... got cut. Got infected. Bad fever... forgot where he was. Forgot _me_ , sometimes.... in and out of it. Sometimes he'd know me, sometimes he'd ask me... questions he already knew the answers to. Died scared."

Five gives a pained whimper, closing his eyes, his face screwing up for a moment with grief. "Carried him home... back to where I found him," he says, his words soft and shaking. "Carried him on my back... 50 miles, wrapped up in a blanket. Felt like a... fair goodbye. Buried him and then just..." he blows a raspberry and makes a lazy explosion motion with his hand. "Now I'm the only person who remembers him... and when I die, he'll die a second time."

Diego throws Five’s socks into the growing pile of clothes on his floor before he looks back at the other man. His expression softens when he hears that Five’s partner passed, unable to imagine losing somebody like that. He couldn’t even compare Five’s disappearance to it. He didn’t have to witness the possibility of his death, it just lingered in the back of his mind for a while. 

“I’m sorry, man,” he says, hoping Five can hear the sincerity in his words. He gives his leg a gentle squeeze, a comforting gesture but he isn’t sure if Five is even going to acknowledge it, or if he even wants him. Diego assumes he doesn’t, but it doesn’t stop him. 

He cocks his head at him, pulling his hand back by his side. “Maybe you’ll find him again.” He offers, but the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Of course he wants Five to be happy again, and if that means finding his husband again, Diego has to accept that, but it still stings in the pit of his stomach. He's not sure when exactly he had thought he would do anything otherwise. 

Five's bleary, shiny eyes roll towards Diego. He feels the words strike him somewhere behind his heart, etching themselves into his ribs. "Yeah, maybe I will," he murmurs in a rare moment of clarity, and he reaches forward to try and take Diego's hand, to try and signal to him that he's right there, it's him, he's the one, he's the man Five is talking about, the one he misses, the one he'd do anything to reconnect with. It's you, Diego, it's _always_ been you-- 

But then his body betrays him, and he rolls over in a hurry to vomit off the side of the bed in a messy puddle.  
  
Diego sees Five reaching out for him and he slowly slides his hand towards him, but when Five turns to throw up on the floor, he sighs and drops his hand back into his lap. “Jesus fucking Christ, Five,” he murmurs, looking away as the other man gags, waiting until he’s done before he stands up. “You couldn’t have done it in the trash?” 

He grabs the towel hanging off his mirror, crouching down to begin cleaning up the mess, just when the door opens behind him and he quickly whips around, but it’s only Luther returning from wherever the hell he’d been. “Great, you’re just in time to help me clean this vomit off the floor,” he mumbles, but he turns back to mess, glancing up at the man who’d made it, still leaning over the edge of the bed and Diego gently pushes him back. Even if it _would_ serve him right to faceplant in his own puke for everything he's put Diego through since his return.


	5. Chapter 5

Five's consciousness comes and goes, fairly detached from his body. He has a vague memory of telling Luther and Diego more about the people who tried to kill him, and about the coming apocalypse, but gun to his head he couldn't have recited a single thing he said the next day. Five's drunken explanation doesn't do much more for Diego except confuse him and Five doesn't offer much more before he passes out in his bed. The confusion doesn't last for long when Al knocks on his door and tells him that Patch called him for help and it only takes three seconds for Diego to realize that if she's asking him for help, things must be bad. 

The scene he arrived upon isn't one he ever expected to find and Diego doesn't think, he never thinks, as he peels off his gloves and pulls her limp body into his arms. He's crying over her, his hot and angry tears mixing with the blood pooling out of her chest, only distantly aware of the sirens in the background. As they get closer, Diego's brain finally turns on and he realizes he can't be here. The police department already hates him, they'll pin this on him, and even though he's already touched her, he leaves with a tearful goodbye, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand as he disappears from the seedy motel. 

Diego had convinced himself he'd been over her, the same way he'd convinced himself that he was over Five, but when he confronts the latter about it, he's nearly crying again, tears stinging in the corner of his eyes and sobs choking in the back of his throat, but he doesn't let either of them slip. He lost Five, he lost Mom, and he lost Patch, but he won't let them know how much it all hurts. 

Sadness turns to anger rather quickly and Diego is determined to hunt down the people who killed her, the same people who attacked them in their house, the same people that Five had been hiding from. He gets shot in the process, but it's nothing compared to the emotional pain he's felt over the past few days. Even with his arm in a sling, he doesn't let it stop him from getting revenge.

By the time Five is lucid again, Diego is back and screaming in his face about someone named Patch, and how he was responsible for her death, and it strikes Five all at once that Diego really _had_ moved on. It shouldn't have surprised him, even he himself spoke of the possibility, but to actually hear it hits like a knife to the heart. It wasn't fair, and he knew that deep down-- but the fact that he'd spent his whole life in love with Diego from beginning to end Diego just... found someone else. It stings. Maybe if he'd had the opportunity to meet other people, he could have fallen for someone else, too, but he'll never know. 

Five has no choice but to put everything behind him and start from scratch. If he can't find the identity of the person responsible for the killing, maybe he can just extrapolate. Maybe if he could just find someone, _anyone_ whose death could thwart it, then there'd still be a chance. Of course, leave it to Luther to prevent him from taking the easiest course of action, just because some random gardener he's never heard of would die. He should have just lied to him and said he was a bad man. 

There's only one other course of action, but it's risky, and it involves making a deal with the worst person Five has ever known. Still, if there's a chance, he'll take it. For his family, he'd always take it. 

Sometimes, though, the actions that take a person from Point A to Point B can get a little muddy in the middle. He expected the deal, he even expected everything to inevitably end in a shoot out, but desk work wasn't how he pictured his day ending. He would have to be incredibly careful if he wanted to extract himself from this situation gracefully.  
  
Or, in the event that grace fails, grenades work just as well.  
  
When Diego is at the Academy the next day, after they'd all discussed the details Five told him and Luther the previous night, he sees Mom. She's alive, walking around, her arm is stitched up, and the last thing she remembers is from over a week ago. Diego almost thinks he's dreaming, but one of her cold hands grasps his, her touch grounding and familiar, and he suddenly forgets what his purpose is. She wants to go to park and without Reginald around to confine her to this house, Diego takes her. 

It's cold outside, but Diego doesn't mind, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket, the other hanging from the sling draped over his shoulder. He walks alongside Mom, looking over at her every once in a while and Diego smiles, the first genuine smile he's given in a while. 

"Dad was wrong for keeping you locked up all those years," he says, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them. "I should have said something." 

Grace stops and Diego turns to face her, watching the expression on her face change. "There's something else that needs to be said, Diego." There's a tone in her voice that Diego can't quite place. "Pogo and I... we've been lying."  
  
Before she's able to get another word out, there's a sudden flash of light in the darkened park, and Five, once more, drops out of the sky just like he had so many days ago. He hits the ground in an undignified heap, the wound in his gut stinging and throbbing behind his jacket, but he ignores it for now as he staggers back up to his feet, brushing himself off. 

"Diego," he says, a little out of breath, a little wild-eyed and a lot pissed off. "Where's everyone else?"

He hadn't _meant_ for the briefcase to take him to Diego, specifically. They still hadn't reconciled after the horrible encounter they'd had in Five's bedroom, and while he knows he was taken to Diego's basement apartment, his memory of that night is pretty handily blacked out. Given the way Diego's looking at him now, though, he's pretty sure it didn't go well. 

"Oh look, it's number Five," Grace says placidly, not at all rattled by the fact that he'd appeared out of thin air. 

"Hi mom," Five says without looking at her, closing in on Diego. "Where is everyone? We have to go, _now_."  
  
Diego nearly jumps when the figure appears in front of him, but when he realizes it's only Five, he sighs quietly. He hasn't spoken to him since he threw up in his bed and Diego doesn't know what he's been up to, but he isn't very thrilled to see him. Maybe it's because he was the reason Patch was dead, or maybe it was because of the conversation they'd had that night, but either way, Five is looking at him expectantly.

"I don't know and I don't really care." He replies, glancing between Five and Mom. She looks happy to see him, but she isn't phased and hasn't seemed to notice the irritated and impatient look on his face. Diego moves closer to her, a frown settling on his face at Five's insistence. "You wanna tell me what's going on or are you just gonna start making more demands?"

"I need to know where they _are_ , Diego!" Five shouts, holding the heavy briefcase in one hand despite the way it makes the wound in his side ache. "I have a name now, I know who we have to stop to thwart the apocalypse."

When Diego just squints at him, Five gives a furious roar at the sky, at no one in particular. "The APOCALYPSE, the whole reason I came back! It's happening in four-- no--" he pauses for a moment, shaking his head. "Fuck, _two_ days, Diego! Two days and the world goes up in flames! Everything you or I or the rest of our family has EVER cared about is incinerated and the world never recovers! I just fist-fought a woman over a fucking piece of paper to get back here and save everyone, so get the lead out."

He fiddles with the dials on the briefcase, breathing heavily. The pain in his side is enough to make him want to just lie down and wheeze, but he endures. For his family he always endures.  
  
Diego's eyes flicker down to the briefcase in Five's hand, arching an eyebrow and about to open his mouth to ask why he's lugging that around and what the name is, but then Five is yelling at him and this time, Diego doesn't shrink away. 

" _Stop_ fucking yelling at me," he growls, glaring down at Five. He's still angry at him for the other day, how Five had exploded at him for no real reason, then how he'd seemingly forgot all about it and instead confided in him when he was drunk. He hated the back and forth - he wished Five would just pick one way to treat him and stick with it. 

There's a gentle hand on his back and he turns his gaze away from Five, meeting Mom's eyes. "Language, Diego." She reminds him, soft but firm, and he sighs, but she continues. "It's okay, dear. Go with him. I'll finish my walk by myself."

Diego hesitates. He'd rather stay with her, especially after hearing what she'd been trying to tell him. What's the point, Diego thinks for a brief moment, in stopping the apocalypse if Five hates his guts, Patch is dead, and he's wanted for a murder he didn't commit. It's a selfish thought, one that he quickly pushes from his mind. He isn't a selfish person and it goes against all that he stands for. Stopping the apocalypse isn't about saving himself, but rather everybody else.

"We have two days to find whoever _Harold Jenkins_ is, and kill him. We kill him, we stop the apocalypse, end of story," Five says as Grace begins to walk away. "We stop the apocalypse, save the world, and everything stays normal. Everyone gets to grow old and die the normal way, and I--"

And Five gets to watch everyone he loves grow old and die decades before him. If he hadn't fucked up his stupid math-- it's too late to worry about that now. Regret has no place in his mind, it takes up too much room. Room he needs to save the goddamn world.

"Tell me where the others are, really dig deep Diego, it's not a hard question," he says, briefcase primed as he looks up at the younger man. "We need to get a move on if we're gonna save the world or _everything_ gets burned to the ground, and believe me when I say you don't want to wake up in the world that's left over if we fail."

Diego looks over his shoulder as Grace begins to walk away, still feeling compelled to follow her until Five starts talking again. He sighs quietly, turning his attention down to him. “Alright, fine,” he mumbles, folding an arm across his chest, his gaze flickering down to the briefcase again. 

They’re not going to talk about either of the past two nights and Diego just has to accept that. Five is right, and it hurts him to admit that, but this is bigger than whether or not they get along, all that matters is that they put their differences aside for the next days and figure this out. 

“I told you I don’t where they are,” he says again, truthfully. Knowing their siblings, they could be off doing anything. “Well...” he corrects himself when he remembers that Klaus is sitting at home, tied to a chair at his request. “Klaus is at home, but that’s it.”  
  
"Okay, Klaus is home, what about the rest?" Five says, snapping his fingers impatiently in front of Diego. "I'm gonna need you to do a little better than that, Diego, the clock is ticking." 

He steps away from Diego, adrenaline from what he's just survived coursing through his body, blinding him to the pain in his side, which slowly seeps blood through his sweater vest. It's making him reckless, he can feel his own crazy-eyes as he paces in front of Diego. "We have to find the others as fast as possible and save the world, unwrite the part of history that happens in two days, unwrite everything that you--" 

No. Too close. Dial it back. He can't reveal that much. He pauses in his pacing for just a moment before shaking his head, like he's physically clearing that thought from it. "Start from the top, Where's the last place you saw Luther?"  
  
Diego pushes Five’s hand out of his face, his gaze tightening on him, watching him pace in front of him, truly looking like he’d lost it. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t irritate him. If Five was being short with him, Diego was going to meet him with the same attitude, especially after he’d interrupted what seemed like it was going to be an important conversation with Mom.

He catches the word Five almost lets slip out. _You_. Diego’s confused, unsure what _he_ directly has to do with this situation. Maybe, he thinks, it’s just Five blaming him for yet another thing he didn’t do. 

“I don’t _know_ , Five,” he says with an exasperated sigh, dropping his arm back at his side. “I don’t keep tabs on everything they do. I think the last place I saw Luther was at home, but that was like 12 hours ago.”  
  
"Damn it, Diego! Would you cut the cavalier attitude!" Five rounds on him, pointing a finger at his face. "In 48 hours if we can't pull this shit together, _everything_ dies! Every plant, every animal, every person, every man woman and child who's alive today, all of them, except for _you!_ Is that what you want?!" 

He freezes even as it leaves his mouth. Reckless adrenaline is what he would blame it on. A potent cocktail of blood loss, fear, anger, pain and desperation. Whatever the cause, it doesn't really matter. He's gone and said it-- and he can't unring this bell. He feels suddenly so very, very old and so very, very tired, and his finger drops back down to his side with a heavy sigh, the anger leeching out of him like color washing off a canvas. He reaches up to pinch and rub the bridge of his nose, where a headache has started to set in.  
  
Diego glares at Five, but his eyes widen slightly as the words Five has just yelled at him process in his brain. He doesn't blink, doesn't tear his gaze away from Five, just looks at him like he's told him the most unbelievable thing he's ever heard in his life, and he has. 

"Wait, what?" He asks, his voice quieter than it had been before, but there's still an edge to it. Five looks like he regrets even saying anything, like he's ready to shut him out again and Diego moves forward without so much as a thought, closing the distance between them. His hand grabs Five's wrist, pulling it away from his face with a tight grip, because he needs to know the truth. "I thought you said we all died."

Five considers pulling away, but at this point it would be moot. The whole point of pulling away from Diego was to spare him from the exact truth that Five spilled like a tea kettle, and so he doesn't resist the grip on his wrist. For once since his return, he doesn't try to resist Diego at all.

"You do," he says, unable to meet Diego's eyes. All of you, including you. Or... this version of you."

He swallows hard, his hand flexing into a fist in Diego's hand. It's startling how easily it can fit around his wrist, wrapped there like a cuff. The feeling of Diego's skin against his burns like a brand.

He looks back up at Diego with sad, tired eyes. "In two days, you're going to survive the apocalypse-- and _only_ you. And you're going to be found by me, fresh from a temper tantrum at the dinner table."

Diego keeps his tight grip on Five's wrist, even when he doesn't try to pull away from him. He has a million other questions, but Five looks tired, the expression on his face akin to the way he looked after their father trained them too hard. He slowly relaxes his grip, but he doesn't pull away. He feels frozen to this spot as his mind tries to put all the pieces together. 

The realization of surviving while everyone else he knows dies is the first thing that Diego has trouble swallowing. It isn't fair - there's no reason he should be one of the few to survive when he's just a hotheaded, wannabe vigilante with a superiority complex, none of which is particularly valuable in an apocalyptic setting. 

The second realization Diego comes to gets stuck in the back of his throat, nearly choking on it as he remembers more of what Five told him last night. "Y-you..." He begins, but he cuts himself off and recollects his thoughts. "Last night... You said that you only ever found one other person." It can't be true, what he's implying, Diego tries to convince himself. His mind must be jumping from one thought to another, stringing these ideas out of nowhere, only looking to hurt himself even more in the process.

Five can't remember everything he admitted to while drunk, but he knows he must have said something about Diego, for the man to be looking at him the way he is now.

"You're the only person I ever found, Diego," he says, his voice small and rough in his chest. "It was just you and me for 30 years."

There's a kind of poetry to being able to open up about everything to the one man he's never truly has self control for. In one thought he chastises himself for telling Diego any of this when it's exactly what he was trying to protect the other man from-- and in another, he sinks desperately into the hold on his wrist.  
  
Diego looks down at his hand still wrapped around Five's wrist, eyes flickering down to the messy, inked line on Five's ring finger and Diego feels his world begin to violent spin. He pulls away from Five like he's been burned, but he can still feel the warm, delicate skin of his wrist on his fingertips. His words are stuck in the back of his throat, a growing lump that Diego can hardly swallow around. It's difficult to breathe and his turtleneck is too restricting. He wonders if his face is turning red. 

Everything that Five had told him last night had been about him. _He_ was the one Five found, the one he nursed back to health, the one he watched die, the one he carried 50 miles to bury. He was the husband Five had so terribly missed, the one Five probably had no idea he'd drunkenly told him about.

He feels like he's going to be sick. 

He doesn't, though. Instead, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Fuck," he murmurs, mainly to himself, tugging at the collar of his sweater before his hand drops back down to his side. He can't let on to Five that he knows or he'd risk the other shutting him out again, so Diego swallows it all down, his gaze returning to the other man no matter how much it aches. "Alright, give me a minute. That's a lot to process."

Five lets out a miserable, clipped laugh. Selfishly, it feels good to have finally unloaded this heavy secret he's been carrying since he arrived. His shoulders feel lighter, his chest feels empty and unburdened. He feels like he could float away.

"That's what I'm trying to _prevent_ , Diego," he says, his voice tight and uncommonly soft. " _That's_ why we need to find the others and save the world. You deserve better than living the next 30 years alone at my side."

 _You deserve everything_ , he thinks, but can't bring himself to say. _I would burn down the world myself, if it would spare you._

Diego's not sure if he thinks that's true, that he deserves better, but he isn't going to argue with Five about it right now. They can talk about it later and he can ask Five all the questions they want - after they stop the apocalypse and kill any chance he has of spending his life with Five. 

It's bittersweet, but Diego knows it can't be any other way. A heavy sigh leaves his body, nodding his head slightly as he glances at Five, hearing the soft undertone in his voice that has Diego's heart aching. "Let's find Harold Jenkins, then," he declares, putting the rest of the conversation behind them, despite how badly he wants to grab Five by the collar of his old uniform jacket and make him tell him every detail about the time they spent together.

"We need the others, we can't do it alone," Five says, relieved beyond measure that Diego has _finally_ stopped fighting him and started listening. And all it took was him completely spilling out his guts, prostrating himself vulnerably for his brother. That doesn't bode well for the rest of their siblings. "Do you really not know where anyone else is? Can you contact them?"

Diego sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone, but it wasn't where it normally was. He checked his other pockets, but remembered he'd left it in his childhood bedroom, sitting on his nightstand. "Shit." He mumbled, looking back down at Five, feeling even more useless in this situation. "If we go back home, I can."

Five gives an angry sigh-- but he's not really angry at Diego. He's angry at the situation, angry at the Commission, angry at the Handler, angry at himself. His side throbs and aches, he can feel blood seeping into the waistband of his shorts, now. He weighs his options quickly-- he could warp them back to the house, using up precious energy, or they could walk back the old fashioned way, using precious time. Time is a finite resource right now, and the more they waste the less time they have to save the world. 

He's injured, and bleeding, and he'd already used up a great deal of his energy at the Commission just to get back here, making a jump that far while bringing another person with him-- not to mention, however many additional jumps he'd have to make to collect the rest of their siblings? He'd have nothing left by the time they actually confront and deal with Harold Jenkins. They have no way of knowing how dangerous he is, he could be a force to be reckoned with, and if Five can't even use his powers, on top of being injured, they're screwed. 

Five gives an angry noise and starts pacing again, fluffing his hand through his hair. "Okay-- okay. Alright. Fuck. Fuck!" he turns back to Diego, and sets the heavy briefcase on the ground. He knows what he has to do now, he has no choice but to go back to the start of the day, when he _knows_ for a fact all of his siblings are in the same place. He has to use the briefcase to take him back there, which will undo the conversation he's just had with Diego. His chest aches thinking about it, knowing that what little baby steps they'd made here in a direction that makes Five feel a little hopeful for the future have to be completely erased-- but what's been done can be done again. They can talk again. Especially now that Five knows Diego isn't going to totally lose his mind over it. 

He grabs the front of Diego's harness and pulls him down with both hands, their mouths meeting in a hard kiss. It's the least they deserve.

Diego isn't quite sure what happened. One second he's watching Five anxiously pace in front of him and the next he's being yanked down to Five's level by his harness, meeting his gaze with a confused one of his own for a brief moment before their lips are on each other's. He doesn't hesitate before bringing his hand up to rest on the back of Five's neck, holding him in place as if he were afraid he'd warp away in an instant.

It's simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. It's been seventeen years since he kissed Five, but those soft and gentle kisses they shared only the darkness of one of their bedroom are miles away from this desperate one they're exchanging now. It isn't a complaint, but it does make his heart ache for what could be. 

He's so caught up in the kiss, in the feeling of Five's lips bruising his own and his hot breath against his nose, that he barely remembers that they're in the middle of a public park and Five looks like he's thirteen. The cops are already looking for Diego, he doesn't need to give them another reason to. Still, he lets the kiss linger for a moment longer before he regretfully pulls away, but his hand stays on the back of Five's neck, keeping him close.

There's something in Five's expression that Diego can't quite read. "What's wrong?" He asks, his voice quiet, even though it's only the two of them, still standing closer than they needed to be, but Diego didn't dare move yet.

Five's breathing is shaky. This was a mistake, he shouldn't have indulged, leaving will be so much harder now. This is another version of Diego he's going to erase, another timeline he's going to wipe off the board with a deft hand. It aches down to his bones to think that he's accumulating a _body count_ of Diegos who will cease to be. He can only hope the number will stop at two. 

"I have to go," Five says, his voice strained. "There's no time to get everyone home, I have to go back to this morning. This whole day's going to be erased, you aren't going to remember any of this."

It isn't fair, and he knows it as he says it. But the throb in his side and the hopeless clench of his heart are enough to push him towards what needs to be done. Always putting the mission first, even over Diego. Diego deserves better.

Go _back?_ The words sting as Diego realizes what Five means by them. He won’t remember what Five told him, he won’t remember this kiss, it will be like none of this happened. 

“Wait,” he says almost instantly, his hand sliding from Five’s neck down to his arm, gripping it tight once again. He knows Five can warp right out of it, but there’s the tiniest bit of hope that he won’t, that he’ll stick around and listen, but Diego isn’t even sure what to say at this point. 

He doesn’t want to go back, purely for selfish reasons. He doesn’t want to live in the dark again, wondering why Five hates his guts. The thought alone makes his heart ache and his fingers curl even tighter around Five’s wrist. “We— We can find them. We’ll go right now. We’ll— We can do this, Five.”

"We can't," Five says, and with his free hand he lifts up the side of his blazer, letting Diego catch a glimpse of the wound leaking blood down his hip. "There's no _time_ , Diego. This briefcase will give me more time. The clock is ticking on this world, every second we can get our hands on is a second we need. I'll make sure we get here again, I swear."

He twists his arm out of Diego's hand, but it's only so he can grab it in his own and squeeze. "I'm a man of my word, Diego. We'll get here again. I didn't spend 30 years married to you just to lose you now."

Wishful thinking, again. Maybe it's just to soothe his conscience, to get permission from Diego to leave-- as if he needs it. He doesn't really know if the perfect storm will occur to get him feeling vulnerable enough to share any of this with Diego again. Lightning rarely strikes in the same place twice. But if he makes it like a promise, he'll have no choice but to keep it. He _is_ a man of his word.

Diego wants to protest again, but his gaze flickers down as Five lifts his shirt, his eyes widening at the wound in his side. “ _Jesus_ , Five... why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, moving in closer once again, pushing his arm out of his sling. His shoulder stings with the movement, but he doesn’t care. He’s more concerned about helping Five as his fingers brush the bloody edge of his jacket. 

He glances up at Five again, his heart practically skipping a beat when he feels him squeeze his hand. Hearing Five say those words out loud has his world spinning again. “Don’t go,” he tries again, but it’s a futile attempt. He knows Five has already made up his mind. “Please.”

Five presses his lips into a firm line, holding back the grief in his eyes. He'd hoped Diego would tell him to go, would let him go-- but he can't rely on Diego to be as firmly minded about the mission as he is. He doesn't have the perspective that Five does, he doesn't have the decades of experience of knowing what exactly is at stake. It's hard for the human mind to conceptualize the end of everything. 

He hates to do this to Diego, it burns in his stomach right along with that damn wound. He can't bear to lie to Diego, but even worse is his ability to bear the fear and sorrow in his eyes.

"Okay," he says, letting go of Diego's hand. "I won't go. We'll figure it out. Let me destroy the briefcase so it can't be used against us."

The relief in Diego's face, the way it goes slack around the edges and smooths out the grief in the lines of his face is what Five needed to see, to justify this to himself. A moment of peace for the man, believing they're about to harness their happily ever after, as Five picks up the briefcase from the ground. He grips it by the handle and looks up at Diego with a soft, brief, "I love you," and then he hits the button that sends him spiraling back through time to that same morning. Diego’s quiet sigh of relief is quickly replaced by a pang of betrayal when Five mutters those three words and reaches for the briefcase. He barely has enough time to react, one hand reaching out to Five before he blinks and everything changes. 

Five drops back out of the air in the living room where all of his siblings are gathered, and the look on Diego's face tells him what he needs to know about his brother's state of mind when it comes to him. No matter, there will be time to mend tides later. Right now he has to tell them about Harold Jenkins.


	6. Chapter 6

Diego is in the living room, leaning against the wall behind the bar when Five falls out of the air in front of him, making him and the rest of their siblings jump. He says he has the answer to the stopping the apocalypse, a slip of paper that Allison takes from him and they all gather around her to read it. Diego squints at the paper, then back up at Five. “Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” 

It’s a name and nothing more, not much to go on, but it’s something. Diego’s already lost two people this week, and while welcoming the end of the world seems like the easiest thing to do, it’s selfish. He agrees, albeit reluctantly, and it’s him, Allison, and Five who are stuck looking for the guy while Luther hangs back to go through Dad’s files and Klaus chickens out of helping entirely. 

Sitting in the car with Five is weird after last night. Diego’s almost positive Five can’t remember anything that he said. He has no intention to bring it up, especially with Allison in the car, but he still glances over at the other man as they drive. He pushes those thoughts from his mind, knowing that all his focus needs to be on matters at hand. 

He comes to the conclusion that guy likely has a record and through a connection at the police station, he gets Harold Jenkins’ file, but not before Beeman tells him that he’s a suspect for Patch’s murder. Diego doesn’t believe it, but barely has time to be angry about it as he hands the file over to Allison and she declares that Harold Jenkins is Leonard Peabody - Vanya’s boyfriend.  
  
They break into his house easily-- though Diego is a little more ostentatious about it than he needs to be. Five would chastise him for leaving such clear evidence of their break in if they weren't riding the wire of a coming apocalypse. It wouldn't really matter if they broke Mr. Jenkins' window if they can get to him anyway, killing him is the key to saving the world. 

As they climb the steps to the attic, Five can feel his weariness really sinking into his bones. He's familiar with the symptoms of blood loss-- intimately so. But they're so close, if he draws attention to his injury now, they'll want to turn around, take him home and tend to him. If he can just stick it out long enough to find a clue as to where Harold went, then he can safely take the time to tend to his injuries before they make the final push to save the world. 

But the longer he stands there while Diego and Allison pore over his creepy collection of melted figurines and scratched-out effigies, he can feel his strength seeping out of him. With his knees locked, he sways slightly in place, and reaches under his jacket with one hand to touch his sweater. It's dark enough that the blood soaking into it isn't visible unless in direct light, and this attic is hardly well-lit. But he can feel it immediately soaked through the fabric, hot and tacky and drying sticky in the fibers. 

One of his knees unlocks, and that's the tiny breeze the whole house of cards needed to come crashing down. He fails to catch himself, the weight of his own body overcoming his feebled muscles, and he hits the ground like a sack of bricks with a groan. Pain radiates through his stomach, up into his chest and grips him by the throat, forcing his breaths out in a wheeze as he rocks on the floor like a fish out of water, trying to right himself. He has to get up, they have to keep moving...  
  
Diego hadn’t been sure what to expect to find, but seeing pictures of all of them with their eyes scratched out definitely wasn’t one of them. The attic was already stifling, but the room felt like it was getting smaller, all of their faces and names and figurines staring back at him. Allison said what they were all thinking - this was never about Vanya. It was about them. 

He barely has time to process it all before he sees Five swaying next to him, then a moment later, there’s a thud as his body hits the ground. “Five?” He asks at the same time Allison does, exchanging a worried and confused glance with her. 

He crouches down next to him, noticing the hand lingering over his side, how his fingertips are stained red. He reaches out at the same time Allison does, but her hands are already pulling his sweater up, revealing the wound in his side. He hears her gasp quietly, but Diego is laser-focused, watching the blood drip down Five’s skin and he quickly shifts to help him. “Jesus, Five...” He murmurs, his hand lingering over the wound before he looks around, snatching an old sheet off a pile in the corner. He shakes it out and rips it, his shoulder stinging at the force, but he doesn’t care. He takes the piece and carefully presses it against Five’s side, his gaze flickering up to his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

"We're so close," Five mutters, feeling his head swim, not unlike the sensation of being drunk the day before. Or was that two days ago? Time travel blends all these things together. But this is significantly less pleasant, he feels light headed and sleepy in a dangerous way, his instinct screaming for him to stay awake, stay _awake_. He's been injured like this before, but he's never pushed himself this far without seeking medical attention. Of course, he's never had such a deadline to keep, either. 

Diego's hand feels cold against his skin, he's so feverish with the trauma of the bullet in his side, and he rolls his head to the side to look up at him. His vision flickers in and out like bad tv reception, fading in and out of static. Collapsing was a mistake, now that he's horizontal he can barely stand to keep his eyes open, unconsciousness dragging at his ankles, like being pulled through a hole in a sheet of ice over a deep black lake. He could swear the faces of his siblings are drifting farther and farther away. 

"You have to keep going," he groans, his own sticky hand coming to rest on top of Diego's at his side as he tries and fails to get an elbow under him. He looks so _small_ like this. "Have to-- stop Jenkins."  
  
Diego watches Five's head roll to the side, his heavy eyes struggling to remain open. He pulls his arm out of his sling, leaving it hanging from his neck with nothing to support as he moves it forward, cupping Five's cheek with a gloved hand and giving him a gentle shake. "Hey, Five." His voice slightly firm, if anything just to give Five something to focus on. "We can't do that without you."

He looks down at Five's hand pressing over his own, watching the white sheet quickly begin to change colors. He glances at Allison, catching her worried expression and Diego sighs before he redirect Five's hand to hold the cloth over the wound and slides both his arms underneath him. "Hey," he says again, nudging his brother. "Stay with me, man." 

He doesn't give him much warning before picking him up, one arm hooked under the back of Five's knees and the other under his back. It stings his shoulder enough to make Diego wince, but that's all he does. "Diego..." He hears Allison say, but he shakes his head, already stepping towards the door with Five in his arms. 

"We gotta get him out of here." He murmurs, pushing open the door with his shoulder. He glances behind him at Allison to make sure she's following before he begins to descend the stairs and make his way out of the house.  
  
"No," Five moans, his side throbbing as he's lifted and carefully carried down the ladder, towards the front of the house. Every breath feels like a knife in his lungs, now that his body is giving up on fighting his injury. As long as he was able to stay on his feet he could compartmentalize, prioritize the mission, but now that he's prone his instincts to rest and allow himself to recover are swiftly taking over. "You have to... find Jenkins."

Diego glances down at Five as he still tries to argue with him, but he can barely keep his eyes open and Diego sighs, adjusting his grip on him as he slips out the door. “We will, but it’s gonna be kinda hard if you keep bleeding out on us.” He murmurs to Five before he looks over his shoulder at Allison. 

"We have to get him home," Allison says, opening the door for Diego. "Who knows how long he's just been bleeding like that, he didn't get hurt with _us_. Where did he get hurt?"  
  
He’s trying to keep a level head, but Five looks pale and weak and there’s no way to tell how much blood he’s already lost. Knowing Five, it could have happened hours ago and he hadn’t thought to tell anyone. “Grab my keys.” He says to Allison, turning towards her so she can pull his car keys from his pocket. “You drive, I’ll sit in the back with him.”

Allison gets behind the wheel without argument, driving as recklessly as she can manage without risking getting pulled over and wasting even more time that they don't have. Five's breathing has gone labored and slow in the back of the car as he leans on Diego, still practically cradled in his lap to make sure he doesn't go flying when Allison takes a turn too sharply. In any other situation, Diego probably would have made fun of Allison’s driving, throwing a sarcastic comment out when she flies around a corner and he has to grip the grab handle above his door, but he’s too concerned about Five to care about anything other than the man beside him. 

"Diego," Five's voice sticks in his dry throat, and he coughs to clear it. "I... need to tell you-- made a promise to you--"

One of his hands is draped limply in his lap between them, while the other grips weakly at his harness. He tries to shift, tries to pull himself upward, but after just a few minutes of letting his wound rest, attempting to move again lances pain through his side that he'd been able to ignore before with prolonged exposure. _Staying_ in pain has always been easier than being in pain twice with a break in the middle, and the stab of pain winds him.

Diego has one of his hands pressed over the wound, trying to keep some of the bleeding at bay, but he realizes there’s not much he can do until they get him home. Mom will know what to do, he keeps telling himself, but it still does little to calm his nerves. 

He looks down at Five as speaks up again, watching him try to sit up and Diego adjusts his arm underneath him. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” he reminds him gently, lowering himself towards Five since the other man can’t bring himself closer. He looks down at the hand curled in his harness, frowning softly before his gaze meets Five again. “I’m right here, it’s alright.”  
  
Five needs to tell him what he told him in the field. He needs to tell Diego about their bond, what they shared-- Diego had proven to be more open-minded than he expected, so much so that he was willing to kiss a child openly in public. Not his brightest moment, but it _had_ been Five's fault. He needs to tell him he loves him, remind him that he's still the most important person in Five's life-- 

But he can't seem to get his jaws to work in his favor. Fatigue and blood loss are claiming him and he can feel himself barely clinging to consciousness. His eyelids flutter heavily and he swallows around a dry throat thickly, his hand going weak around Diego's harness. 

"Have to tell you..." he tries again, before exhaustion claims him, and his head falls limp back against Diego's bicep.  
  
Diego watches as Five seems to blink in and out of consciousness, his eyes struggling to stay open, his head becoming heavier against his arm. "Five?" He asks, giving him a gentle nudge, but it feels like his entire body has gone limp in his arms. He moves his arm, his hand coming to cradle the back of Five's head, giving him a gentle shake. "Five, c'mon, man. Stay with me." 

His voice gets a little shakier, his emotions starting to get to him more now that he sees the physical affects of the wound on Five's health. He barely notices Allison glance over her shoulder at them, too caught up in trying to keep Five awake. "You're not getting out of this that easily, kid," he says, trying to have a little bit of humor, or at least hoping that using a nickname Five hated would wind him up enough to keep him talking until they made it home, but it falls short. "Talk to me, Five."  
  
Five doesn't. He can hear the faint, faraway mumbling of someone talking, but it's all lost under the heavy velvet blanket of unconsciousness. He slips too deep to hear anything in the outside world anymore, his awareness going black and fuzzy as he drifts into a deep state of unrealization. 

"Diego," Allison's voice finally cuts through the panic clenching her brother's chest. "Stop shaking him, just check for a pulse. Is he still alive?"

A car honks at her as she almost swerves into the wrong lane, and she yanks on the wheel to compensate, whipping around another city street corner too close and nearly hitting a pedestrian on the way. All she has to do is get them to the street in front of the house, everything else can wait, she'll handle any tickets for red lights, run stop signs and speeding or parking violations when she gets there.  
  
Diego's vision starts to tunnel when Five doesn't respond, his mind automatically assuming the worst - he's holding his dead brother in his arms three days before the end of the world. He couldn't have just held on a little bit longer? 

He snaps out of it when he hears Allison say his name, glancing up and meeting her worried expression in the rearview mirror. He stares blankly at her for a moment before he swallows the lump that began to form in his throat, moving his hand to grab Five's wrist, checking for a pulse. "Yeah." He mumbles. It's faint, but it's there, and it should do more to relax Diego, but with the way Allison's driving, it might not even matter if she kills them before they make it home. 

"Jesus, Allison, fucking watch where you're going!" He yells at her, but he regrets it a moment later. He isn't mad at her, he's just scared that they aren't going to make it home fast enough to save Five.  
  
"I know how to drive!" she shouts back, just as on edge. Her concern for Five comes in the form of a laser-focused refusal to panic outwardly, unlike Diego's wide-eyed, throat-clutching fear. 

She pulls up in front of the academy and parks in the middle of the street rather than bother taking the time to parallel, so Diego can climb out with Five in his arms. She shoos him inside so he has time to park, and he's quickly gathered by Grace who takes them both to the infirmary so she can tend to his wound. 

"It doesn't look so bad," she says placidly, as if it isn't leaking blood sluggishly down his side, and she pulls a plastic gown over her dress to keep it clean, before washing her hands in the sink. "Diego if you wouldn't mind helping me? I need a scalpel, a pair of london college tweezers, a fresh roll of gauze, iodine, peroxide, rubbing alcohol, medical tape, an IV stand, a package of saline and the last pack of blood from the fridge." 

She turns around to see Diego standing in a daze, just as Allison comes into the room in a hurry from behind him with a muttered, "I can get that, Mom. _Diego_ needs to put his _arm back up_."  
  
Diego carries Five inside, even though his legs feel weak and his arms are shaking, but he refuses to show any sign of it. He follows Grace to the infirmary, carefully laying Five down on the table, but he's hesitant to leave his side. She gives him directions that he barely processes, barely understands half of the words she said, and he just stands before her dumbfounded, his breath catching in his throat as he looks down at his bloody hands. 

It feels like finding Patch all over again, but intensified. It doesn't make sense. He knows Five isn't dead and he isn't going to die, but Diego can't shake that feeling from the pit of his stomach and he feels it slowly taking over him. 

He looks at Allison, frowning as she starts to grab some of the things Mom has asked for. He almost completely forgot about his arm, the adrenaline pumping through his veins acting as a painkiller, but the sting is slowly starting to come back, and he's aware of the sling still hanging over his chest. "I-I'm fine." He says, but he quickly tucks his arm back into it, ignoring the flash of pain it sent up his shoulder. "I can help."  
  
"You can _help_ by sitting down," Allison says curtly as she starts to pile the things Mom asked for on a metal tray beside the woman. "Mom knows what she's doing." 

With the items collected, she turns around to physically push Diego by his chest towards the couch on the far side of the room, urging him to sit while their mom hums to herself, cutting Five's clothes off his body, and pushes one IV into either inner elbow, one giving him a blood transfusion while the other pumps him with saline. She swabs him down with iodine, dying his side bright orange and then uses the scalpel to widen the hole in his side, digging around with the tweezers to find the bullet, and a very slight line appears furrowed between Five's brow. Thankfully, he doesn't wake up.   
  
Diego narrows his eyes at Allison, but he can't find the energy to argue with her. He still doesn't move, not until she physically pushes him and stumbles back into the couch with a quiet sigh. He's about to run his hands through his hair, but he stops when he sees how bloody they are again and instead, lets them fall back into his lap.

He watches Mom begin to work on Five, but he has to look away when she picks up the IV, that nauseous feeling settling over him even though it isn't going into his own skin. His thoughts shift, thinking back to whatever Five had been trying to say to him before he slipped into unconsciousness. It was eating at him from the inside out, wondering what could have been so important that Five felt the need to tell him in _that_ moment, especially after the last moment he'd had with Five where he hadn't been drunk had ended in disaster. 

The couch shifts and Diego opens his eyes, glancing over at Allison as she settles down next to him. "Five's going to be okay," she says softly, sitting down beside her brother and taking his free hand, giving it a squeeze to let him know she's there, before she starts using a wet nap to scrub some of the blood off his fingers and palms. He wants to pull his hand from her grip, but he doesn't. Instead, he silently lets her clean his bloody fingers, but his gaze settles on Five, watching his face as Grace continues to operate on him.  
  
"Open," he hears Allison say a couple minutes later, and she's presenting him with painkillers. She cracks a bottle of water for him once he accepts the pills, and then sits at his side, looping her hand around his back to rub him under the strap in long, soothing circles. "He's going to be _okay_ , Diego," she murmurs again when she sees him still lost in thought. Diego, with his mind in a blur and his vision slightly fuzzy, obeys her without question. He swallows the pills without complaint, allows her to rub his back without pulling back, silently confides in her without thinking twice about it. It's unlike his usual demeanor, but Allison's comforted him like this in the past. It's just been about fifteen years since he let it happen. 

"Yeah." He mumbles quietly, and he knows she's right. Five will be fine. He's an old soul in a young body, but it works to his advantage in this situation. He'll heal quickly, left with nothing but a scar, but Diego still can't get push the look on Five's face as he laid in his arms from his mind. 

It isn't that terribly long, all things considered. Mom opens him up a little wider, pokes around inside for a bit to make sure nothing vital was hit, applies a few dissolvable stitches on the inside just to make sure nothing will split and bleed later, and then stitches him up from the outside, applying a square of gauze and taping it in place. 

She's humming again as she strips off her gloves and medical gown, both of which got a surprisingly little amount of blood on them, and drops them into the biohazard bin to clean later before turning to her children with a smile. "Five should make a full recovery," she says, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Are either of you hungry?"

Diego shakes his head at Mom's question, the thought of food making his stomach churn, even though he can't remember the last time he ate. He'll be fine, he decides. He wants to stay with Five, but he knows nothing will come of it. If anything, Five will be upset with him for wasting time sitting around. "I'm okay, Mom," he says, then looks at Allison. "Is the file still in the car?"  
  
"I brought it inside, it's in the front hall," Allison answers. She already knows what Diego wants to do, what his plan is, and though she hates the idea of him running off alone, she knows she'd be more of a hindrance than a help considering combat isn't exactly her area of expertise. She knows how to hold her own when pressed, but she's never been the type to seek out a fight, and considering her unwillingness to use her powers in a pinch, she knows she has to leave it up to Diego to get the next part done. "Be safe. I'll make sure Five doesn't wake up alone."  
  
Diego knows what he has to do and as much as it pains him to leave Five like this, it's better this way. There's a contact in the file - Harold Jenkins' grandmother, and an address. It's their only lead to go on, so Diego leaves Allison with Five, making his way out of the Academy. The second he steps outside, he sees the squad cars parked down the street. Fuck, he thinks, quickly turning on his heel to head the other way, but it's useless. 

They're arresting him for Patch's murder, the people at the station that Diego had grown to consider friends were pointing guns at him and handcuffing him. Beeman reads him his rights and all Diego can do it spit at his feet, a snide remark leaving his lips as he's shoved into the back of the car. He's angry with himself for being so stupid, for leaving his prints all over the crime scene, for not thinking to find a different way out. Now, he's stuck here, proving to be just as useless as Five is as he's laying unconscious in his bed. 

He doesn't know how long it's been, but he paces the cell, kicking at the bars, screaming to no one in particular. The end of the world is drawing near and Diego's in jail with no escape in the foreseeable future. When the rest of his siblings aren't able to save the world from the dawning apocalypse, it will be Diego's fault. Beeman comes to visit him, an inconspicuous visit to the security cameras, but when the man reaches through the bar to shake his hand, he slips Diego a key to the cell.  
  
So, Diego breaks out of the jail cell at the police station and books it back home. Allison isn't there and Diego can only assume she went where she wasn't able to go, but when he runs into Klaus and Five, he realizes she went alone. He barely even has time to register that Five is up and walking around, the events of that night shoved so far into the back of mind because what's happened since then. 

They find her at the cabin, her throat slit, bleeding out on to the carpet. She's barely breathing and Diego briefly wonders if he looked the way Luther does mourning over her body with Five. He quickly wipes that thought from his mind and instead becomes the rational one for once in his life, but only because Luther is too busy trying to keep himself together to lead. His hands are shaking as he drives them home, not too unlike the way Allison had been driving when Five was the one bleeding out in the backseat. 

They bring her home to Mom, who once again doesn't even look phased, and Diego wishes he could be so calm during times like these. Allison needs a blood transfusion and they all offer, but Luther's blood is incompatible, Klaus' isn't clean enough, and Five is too weak after yesterday. Ultimately it's Diego that ends up offering and giving it, only after he passes out on the floor the second he sees the needle in Grace's hands, but at least he was finally able to do something useful.  
  
With Allison out of commission, it's up to the rest of the family to make progress on the mission. Luther stays behind at Allison's bedside, watching over her carefully as Klaus, Diego and Five make their way to Harold Jenkins' home, determined to finally put an end to this whole debacle. One can only imagine their surprise when they arrive only to find Jenkins already dead, stabbed with so many implements he looks like he walked straight out of hellraiser and collapsed on the floor of his home. 

It's a gruesome scene to behold, but Five doesn't even seem remotely phased by it as he steps forward to slip the glass eye into the man's empty socket. It's a perfect fit. Whatever happened to the man, the apocalypse is thwarted. He's dead, whatever purpose he was supposed to served by being kept alive by Hazel and Cha Cha has been put to an end. They can go _home_. 

It's in the going home, however, that Five doesn't know what he's supposed to do with himself. When he and Diego were living in the wastes, in order to stay sane they would give themselves tasks to accomplish. Walk one thousand miles just to see what's on the other side, learn how to knit blankets, figure out how to grow corn. Things they could accomplish in order to make life feel a little more normal. Then he was in the Commission, time spent with his life being relegated and dictated by other people. Sent to kill this person there, protect that person here, set these events in motion. And then he came home, and the mission was at hand-- save the world by any means necessary.  
  
And now that the mission is over, Five finds himself... listless. They're all home (with the exception of Vanya, but he's sure she'll come stumbling back eventually) and there's nothing left to do. The world is safe. The apocalypse has been stopped. What is there to do now? _Grow up?_ How pedestrian. 

It's Hazel himself who offers Five at least something else to think about. He arrives unexpectedly, though his presence isn't unwelcome. Five had never known him personally when they worked in the Commission together, their ages had been a little too far apart to be truly social, and Five was never the _making friends_ type, anyway. But there was a mutual respect for one another, a respect from the job and the work that only men like them could understand, and he knew Hazel wasn't there to hurt him, so he let him in. 

Things only got ugly once Diego caught the man standing with him in the living room, while Five sipped from a margarita the color of antifreeze. Really, Five couldn't blame him for lashing out, all things considered. But he wasn't finished talking to the man, and so he puts Diego in time-out. Right over the back of his head. 

By the time Diego is groaning awake, Hazel is long gone, and Five turns to face him as he staggers to his feet. 

"He's already gone," he informs his brother before he has a chance to tear ass through the house. "I let him go."  
  
When Diego had stepped into the living room and laid eyes on Hazel, his vision went red. One of the men who killed Patch was standing in his home and Diego didn't care if he was talking nonchalantly to Five. This was his wrong to right. He'd all but launched himself at the guy, ensuing a struggle that Diego had the upper hand in until there was a loud crash, a sharp pain in the back of his head, and his world went black as he hit the floor. 

He's confused at first, looking around at the broken glass on the floor, raising a hand to his face and pulls it back to check if he's bleeding anywhere. He looks around the room, then, seeing Five sitting at the bar and Diego remembers. Five already says that's gone, but Diego still looks around, eyes frantic until Five says that second phrase. 

He whips around to face him, wide eyes turning dark as he questions his brother. "You what?" He asks, taking a step towards him and it's taking everything in his will not to lunge at Five the same way he did with Hazel, get his hands around his throat and make him regret the decision. Instead, his hand curls around the handle of a knife, clutching it tightly at his side. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because it's _over_ , Diego," Five says tiredly, lifting his drink to his lips, sucking some of the sour up through the straw. "The apocalypse is stopped. We did our job. The world is safe. We don't have to fight anymore."

Honestly, he doesn't _want_ to fight anymore. He's tired down to his soul. Just having a civil conversation with someone who was trying to kill him a couple days ago is a fucking godsend. His life has been nothing but fighting since birth, and the idea of it finally coming to an end is too tantalizing to resist.  
  
Diego would have rolled his eyes at Five, if he hadn't been practically seething with anger. That had been his one opportunity to avenge Patch's death and it had been dangling in front of him, so easy to catch, but he hadn't been fast enough. He was almost positive Hazel wouldn't come around again and Diego would be stuck as a wanted man with blood on his hands. 

"Maybe _you_ don't," he said, pointing his knife at Five before he motions to the empty spot beside him where Hazel had been. He should have just thrown his knife when he saw him - it would have been so easy. "But this is _my_ fight and I'm not done with it. So, he better hope that I never find him."

Five feels frustration climb up his back, flare in his chest like heart burn. Diego has a chance to stop fighting, to live normal now, to lead a safe, ordinary life where he doesn't have to die early or young or scared-- and _still_ he's determined to throw it all away like an idiot. He growls under his breath, trying to find the right words to shut down Diego's rage, but he knows his brother. He knows him better than anyone in the family knows him. He knows that there are no words Five could use, no magic combination of syllables that would get through to him. It has to be _Diego's_ idea to stop. 

He sighs, shaking his head. "It isn't your fight anymore, Diego," he says, his tone serious and tired. He can't help but try, even if he knows it's futile. "Hazel wanted a way out of his lifestyle. The life of an assassin is grueling and exhausting, and he was done fighting. You see those guns?"

Gesturing to the two guns sitting beside him on the bar with his drink, Five takes another long sip. He waits for Diego to actually focus on them, to scrutinize the guns before continuing. "Those are the guns that belonged to him and his partner. His partner is the one who shot Patch, not him-- and he just gave us the guns to prove you didn't do it either. He's _helping_ us."

Diego couldn't have cared less about the life Hazel was tired of living and he didn't know Five was even trying to get him to sympathize until he saw the guns sitting on the bar. His eyes flickered from Five's face down to them, taking a step closer, but he didn't dare touch them. It was the only thing from the crime scene that his prints weren't on. He wasn't taking that chance if the get-out-jail-free-card was dangling right in front of his face. 

Still, it didn't change the fact that they had killed Patch. "I don't care," he said, taking another step back, redirecting his attention towards Five once again. "He was there, he did nothing to stop his partner. They still killed her. He doesn't get to run away from it." Turning in the guns would clear Diego's name, but the police would probably never be able to find Hazel and ChaCha and charge them for it. 

"It doesn't bring her back." He adds after a moment, and there's an edge to his voice, emotions threatening to spill out which he tries so hard to conceal. Up until a few days ago, he'd been convinced that he was over Patch, the same way he'd convinced himself that he was over Five, but seeing that familiar face after years of nothing, along with seeing her lifeless body, had Diego realizing how often he'd been lying to himself.

Five presses his mouth into a grim line. He'd already anticipated the man wouldn't care before the words even left his mouth, but he still had to try. He sighs and shakes his head, and turns in his seat to set his drink on the bar, adjusting the stupid little parisol inside it to lay flat. 

"What's done is done, Diego," he says, in perhaps not the most comforting way. His chest still aches with the promise he'd made to the very man standing in front of him now, back in the park when he'd had no choice but to leave him behind. He can still feel the ghost of the pressure of Diego's lips on his own, the rasp of his stubble against his chin and cheek. In his heart he knows that if he asked Diego to jump, the man would ask how high. Despite the fact that this is the first moment of peace they've had since then, he can't bring himself to pop that particular bubble. Not now, not like this. 

He drops down off his stool, adjusting his blazer. "If there's one thing I've learned, fucking around with time travel, it's that the people who are meant to die always die. I came home to prevent the whole world from dying-- but I can't save everyone. I'm already at my limit," he says, looking his brother over, at the way every one of his muscles is bunched like a predator ready to spring. He does know, keenly, the sort of anguish that comes from a lover lost, however, and sympathizes with him on that front. He swallows hard. "Tell me about her."

Diego knows that Five did everything in his power to stop the apocalypse, to save more than seven billion people, but it isn't fair that they couldn't save one of the few people Diego actually cares about. It tears at his chest, traveling up the back of his throat and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His eyes stung with tears and if he were alone, he probably would have let them fall.

Instead, the words Five says next surprise him. "What?" He asks, blinking slightly in surprise, but also blinking away the tears, not needing Five to see them now that he's standing in front of him. He wanted to know about her? Diego didn't think Five cared, or maybe he was just trying to be civil, but either way, he hesitated. 

He didn't talk about his relationships, mainly because he didn't have anyone to talk to about them. The guys preferred locker room talk, which Diego wasn't above all the time, and it wasn't like he'd talked to his family at all before a few days ago. It was a foreign concept to him, especially to be discussing it with Five, but the other man had also lost someone. Five had shared his experience with him, maybe he was just offering the same comfort Diego had provided. 

"She was the total package." He begins, shrugging softly as he slowly slides his knife back into the holder on his harness. "Hardworking, headstrong, open-minded. She had that take-no-shit kind of attitude, but when she smiled..." He pauses for a moment, feeling that familiar tug at his heartstrings that catches in the back of his throat. To push it down, he shakes his head slightly and redirects the point he's making. "Cute butt. Nice legs, too."

Five rolls his eyes to mask the absolute stab of agony he feels in his chest when Diego starts talking about someone else he loved. He knows it's selfish for him to think that Diego couldn't have moved on and found other people in the time he spent between Five's disappearance and their reunion, and he understands now how naive he'd been to assume Diego never had anyone else just because he couldn't remember his life before his head injury. Just because Five had never loved anyone else, it wasn't fair of him to expect Diego wouldn't. 

But listening to it makes him ache profoundly. He shakes his head as he looks up at his brother. "Is that how you talk about everyone posthumously? How nice their butt is? What are you going to say about me when _I'm_ gone?"

He's not sure if it's cruel or ironic to imply that Diego might outlive him, all things considered. Not to mention the fact that he's more than a decade older than him already-- but it certainly would be poetic. And not entirely out of the realm of possibility, given how recklessly violent Five's lifestyle is.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Diego's lips, even though it doesn't feel like it belongs there. His heart still aches and he doubts Five cares about what he's saying, but he doesn't push the smile away. "No, that's reserved for her. I'll tell everyone about your cute socks, though." He shoots back playfully, but his expression falls serious once more. 

"She believed in people," he says, his hands fiddling with his harness as he slowly drapes his arms across his chest. "She saw so much shit out there and she still believed that people were good." Diego had always respected her for that, something that he always found difficult - finding the good in people when it was so easy to just see the bad.

Five wonders whether she would have been able to find any good in _him_ , and is privately thankful they never met. He doesn't think he'd like to be judged by Diego's lover, and doesn't know whether it would be better to be found lacking, if he were. 

It does strike him, though, how Diego is talking now. He talks about her like Five would talk about Diego, if he hadn't had every soft little part of him stripped away from the bone until he was little more than a walking skeleton, skin and bone with nothing in between. Nothing tender left inside of him, nothing gentle. Nothing of what Diego deserved. He wonders how badly it would break things if he _did_ go back to rescue his lover. It would require some serious math and probability charts, and would almost certainly be the final nail in the coffin of his and Diego's relationship-- but it's something to think about. 

Ultimately, he cares more about Diego being happy than he does being with him. He doubts Diego would be happier with him. He's not the same person Diego fell in love with. He's barely a shadow of that man, anymore. 

So he asks, "Were you in love with her?"

Love was a word that always scared Diego. The feelings that came with it were always too intense for his liking, preferring to cut things off before it even reached that point, but that hadn't been the case with Patch. Things had ended, but not before Diego felt something stirring inside of him whenever he woke up next to her, or whenever he made her laugh, or whenever they shared a quiet moment of intimacy. 

"I don't know," Diego says honestly. He doesn't know if he'd describe that feeling as love. They'd never said those three words to each other and after they broke up, Diego knew he'd never hear them from her, so any urge that he'd had to say the same had been pushed into the depths of his mind. "I think at some point, maybe." 

In the back of his head, there's a voice telling him he shouldn't be talking about this with Five. He knows their relationship, if he could even call their shared nights together that, was nothing compared to his relationship with Patch, or Five's relationship with his late husband, but it still felt wrong to be disclosing the details to someone he'd definitely held feelings for at one point in his life.

"Love is weird," Five says, tucking his hands into his pockets and breaking eye contact with Diego. It feels equally strange for him, almost coercive in a way, knowing what he knows. Knowing Diego doesn't know. His stomach turns. 

His eyes go unfocused as he stares at the floor, his mind's eye transporting a million miles away in an instant. "Love makes you remember weird details. Like the way your lover's scars catch the light." He knows now that he told Diego something about their past, but doesn't remember how much, how far. He recalls why he'd stopped drinking so heavily, blacking out was incredibly inconvenient. He knows at least that Diego doesn't know the identity of his husband-- and knows that now isn't the right time to tell him. 

Glancing back up at his brother again, unable to quite meet his eye, he looks at his lips, instead. "A little while before he died, my husband asked me why I loved him. He wanted to know that if we'd met under different circumstances, if I still would have loved him. I think he was afraid that the only reason I loved him was because I didn't have any other options. You had options, Diego, and so did she, and you chose each other. That counts for something." 

He tries and fails not to sound bitter, and drops his eyes with a breathy, humorless chuckle. Diego deserves the opportunity to choose.

Diego arches a brow as Five spills some more details, wondering just how much he remembered from that night where he'd drunkenly confessed to even _having_ a husband. He doesn't imagine it's that much, and Diego's eyes almost instinctively glance down at the crude black line around Five's ring finger. 

His heart clenches when Five talks about his love, comparing to his own. He doesn't think that spending over thirty years with someone in an apocalyptic wasteland is comparable to a couple years of on-and-off again flings that ultimately ended because Diego didn't know when enough was enough. It seems like Five doesn't find it comparable either, judging by the tone in his voice that Diego thinks might be jealousy.

But there's no way Five could be jealous of him, he tries to rationalize, shaking the thought from his head. "Well, would you?" He asks, curiously. Five's husband wasn't dead in this timeline. He could find him again and even though the thought made Diego feel like the room was spinning, if it made Five happy, who was he to stop him? "Still love him, if you met under different circumstances?"

Five looks Diego in the eye then, his gaze soft. Willing something to click, willing him to remember. Willing time to unwrite itself backwards and project even a fraction of a thought into his mind, an ember that could grow and billow into a wildfire. He waits for a spark, for a sign of realization, of anything-- and finds none. Of course he would find none, it was foolish of him to even think it. 

"Yes," he says finally, his jaw set and his tone vacant with the kind of disaffected agony of a grief long settled into a home in his chest. "Sometimes I felt like the world was destroyed just so we could be together. And sometimes I felt like, if given the chance, I would destroy it again myself to have him again."

Diego meets Five's eyes, but his expression is intense, almost taking Diego by surprise as he just stares blankly back at him, waiting for an answer that Five seems to take forever to come to. 

The answer surprises him almost as much as the look on his face. He thought his feelings for Patch were strong, strong enough to kill for, but Five was talking about destroying the world, letting the apocalypse happen again, just to be with his husband again. Diego suddenly didn't know if he'd ever loved Patch, if that's what love was supposed to feel like. 

"You can find him again," he tells Five after a moment, his own expression softening slightly as he realizes just how much this man means to Five and just how little he does in comparison. It makes his heart shatter, but the pieces remain intact, poking at his insides as a constant reminder of the sharp sting. "At least you have that to look forward to."

"No," Five says it out loud finally, putting to bed the thought of them at last. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but one he knows is only fair. "He had a life, before the apocalypse. I can't show up and disrupt that, I couldn't be that selfish."

There's the soft sound of a warp, and Diego would have thought that Five just ditched him completely if not for the thud of him reappearing behind the bar, pouring himself another drink. He's going to need one if they're going to keep talking about this. He takes a sip of strong, straight whiskey and sighs, pulling out a second glass and pouring out the same, nudging it across the bar towards Diego. 

"Being a time traveler means I have to make up my own rules of engagement for the universe. If I'd wanted to, I could have traveled back to stop my husband from getting the injury that eventually claimed his life with infection. I could have artificially extended his life that way, I could have..." he sighs, shaking his head. "Paradoxes are fickle. All it takes is one tiny thread to be removed from a tapestry, and it all crumbles apart. Part of being a time traveler is _respecting_ time, and the way it chooses to pass. Free will and the ability to make mistakes, even fatal ones, are a sacred part of time itself."

He takes another long sip from his drink, nearly draining it in one shot. "I lived my lifetime with my husband. That chapter of my life is closed, and now that the apocalypse has been thwarted... it's closed for good. I unwrote that timeline when I came back here, when we worked together to prevent it from ever happening. The only place my husband lives anymore is in here," he taps the side of his temple with two fingers. "He gave me the gift of 30 unbroken years of joy, the best gift I can give him in return is the opportunity to make his own choices."

Diego looks at the glass Five has poured him, hesitating for a moment. He doesn't drink often, prefers to keep his head clear from the thoughts that alcohol normally brings out, but he's already laid his heart out on his sleeve tonight, what's one drink going to do? He takes the glass, slowly raising it to his lips and taking a swig of it. It burns as it slides down his throat, a sensation all too familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

He swirls the whiskey around in his glass as he listens to Five, glancing between him and the drink in his hand. Five's will is stronger than his own if he can just give up, knowing that the man that once was his husband was still out there, waiting to have a shot at a normal life with him. If Diego was in that position, he didn't think he could let him go that easily. 

"What if he chooses you?" Diego finds himself asking after another sip of whiskey, setting the glass back down on the bar as he slumps into one the stools. He hadn't expected to be here for this long, the thought of finding Hazel and ChaCha slowly replaced by the thought of learning more about the brother standing in front of him.

Five inhales slowly, his nostrils flaring as his eyes go unfocused with thought. "I'd considered it," he admits, thinking back to that park again. He couldn't go back there, either, he'd also unwritten _that_ timeline. It aches in him, to know that had he chosen to stay like Diego had begged, Harold Jenkins still would have died. None of _them_ stopped him, which means he left Diego behind in that field for nothing. 

But seeing him now, mourning Patch. He knows it's unfair of him to wedge himself back into his brother's life. 

"But I don't think it would be fair," he finishes finally, draining his drink with another burning gulp. "We wouldn't be equals. I would be starting the relationship with 30 years of memories about him. I'd already know things about him he wouldn't get a chance to tell me himself. I'd miss things about him that don't exist anymore because of this world he's living in now. I'd compare him to the version I spent so many years with. He deserves to start over with someone new."

Clearing his throat to try and dislodge the lump that's taken root there, he looks back up at Diego, desperate to not talk about himself anymore. "And you?" he says, not so subtly changing the subject. "If you had your way, you would time travel back to save her?"  
  
Diego thinks it's a cop-out answer, but he doesn't say so. Maybe there's some other reason that Five can't risk trying again, but if Diego were in that position, he'd probably already be looking for the one he lost. 

It was different when it came to Patch, though. Five's question caught him off-guard, enough so that he finished the rest of his drink as he mulls it over, setting the empty glass back down on the bar, but he doesn't raise his gaze to look at Five. "Probably," he finally answers, lifting his eyes to look at Five as he says it. "But not to be with her again." Even if he saved her life, Diego didn't think Patch would come around again. Some things just weren't meant to and they were one of them, no matter how badly he'd believed otherwise. "Just to give her another chance at the rest of her life." 

Diego stares at the handle of whiskey on the shelf behind the bar, but he doesn't move to pour himself another glass. He doesn't need it, he's already revealing more than he'd imagined he would. "She was gonna do so much, man." He mused, shaking his head softly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "When we met back at the Police Academy, we used to pass notes all the time. The instructor caught us one time and she was so scared she was gonna get kicked out." A quiet laugh falls from his lips, but it's a bitter one, the irony that she'd been so afraid of getting kicked out when it was Diego who would be in the end. "I think she still carried one of them around, tucked in her wallet. Said it was her good-luck charm."

That's _insufferably_ cute, Five decides, with a scowling twist of his mouth. He feels the ring of ink around his finger burn at the thought. 

"Are you at all familiar with the idea of why the titanic sunk?" Five asks, as he pours himself another couple fingers of whiskey. He continues talking, whether Diego is actually familiar or not, and warps onto a bar stool beside him, and he takes a sip of his drink. "Originally it was the iceberg. But then as more and more people went back in time to try and save the titanic, it got messier and messier and more and more hectic, to the point that now the boat is completely unsavable _because_ there are too many people trying to save it. That's why I didn't go back to save my husband. That's why going back to save Patch wouldn't work. That's why people were sent to kill me to keep me from rewriting the past."

He leans on his elbows with a sigh, and looks up at Diego with sad eyes. "You want that note? I bet I could get it out of evidence. They wouldn't even notice it was gone."

Diego is glad he doesn't get the chance to answer before Five continues, since he would have just confidently answered wrong, anyway. Maybe another time he would have questioned it, why so many people had been insistent on saving the Titanic when there were other disasters that Diego thought were better-suited to be fixed. He wasn't going to dwell on it, though, as that wasn't the point Five was making. 

He was saying that Patch couldn't be saved and as much as it hurts to hear, he knows it's true. He takes the handle of whiskey off the bar and pours himself another glass after Five does. He doesn't need it, but he wants it. The buzz settling in the back of his mind is a nice distraction from the shards of his heart still poking at his insides. 

He looks curiously at Five over the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. "I don't know if it's worth the effort to get." He says, but truthfully, he wants it. He doesn't have anything of Patch's anymore except for an old photograph turned face-down on his desk. It would be nice to have something else that was tangible, that had clearly meant a lot to her. He knows it wouldn't take much for Five to get it, but he doesn't want to admit to wanting it, even if his head is screaming at him to say yes.

"Bold of you to assume it would take much effort," Five says, already having made up his mind. "I'll go tonight, after the station's shut down. Warp right into the room and back out. I'll even put on rubber gloves if it makes you feel better," he offers, wiggling his fingers teasingly at Diego, knowing full well his lack of gloves were exactly why he got in the mess with her in the first place, that the guns sitting between them on the bar have to solve. "I'll leave the guns there with a note, too."

He tosses his drink back, and then reaches out to pat Diego on the cheek with the back of his hand, almost condescendingly, before he grabs a couple cloth napkins from behind the bar and carefully picks up the pair of guns, tucking them into his pockets. "Leave Hazel alone, alright? If your girlfriend really saw the good in everyone, I don't think she'd appreciate it if you killed someone in her memory."

Hopping down off his stool again, he warps out before his feet even hit the ground, vanishing in a cold snap of air that leaves Diego sitting alone at the bar with his thoughts, and a half-drunk and abandoned margarita.

Deep down, Diego knows Five is right. It's hard to admit that out loud, but he doesn't have to. Five is gone before he even realizes it and Diego slams the rest of his drink, leaving the empty glass on the bar with Five's forgotten margarita. 


	7. Chapter 7

Diego lingers around the academy, feeling no real reason to go anywhere, and with his mind buzzing just enough to keep his thoughts away, he finds solace at the kitchen table, sharpening his knives while Mom makes him cookies. 

That is, until Luther drags him and Klaus to a part of their home that Diego didn't even know existed, a room with a reinforced and padded room in it, with a heavy steel door and a window with a thick pane of glass. Through it, he can see Vanya, but he can't hear her screams or her pounding against the window. He thinks Luther must have lost his mind, saying that Vanya has _powers_ and needs to be locked up, and even though he's still pissed at Vanya for writing that stupid book and exposing their family secrets, he agrees with Klaus and Allison on this one - they have to let her go. 

They don't. 

And although Diego isn't happy with it, all seems fine until a crashing sound echoes throughout the entire academy. He's sitting in his bedroom when it happens, shooting up almost instantly as he meets the rest of his siblings in the hallway. It's Vanya, Luther says and Diego almost doesn't believe him until Pogo confirms it. The crashing gets louder, pieces of the ceiling falling around them as Diego and Klaus try to find mom. 

Klaus saves his life, but Diego wasn't able to save Mom. He watches her through the window from the outside as the house starts to crack. He screams for her while Klaus holds him back, until they're sheltering each other from the explosion as their childhood home crumples from the inside out. When Diego looks up as the dust settles, all that's left are pieces of the foundation and various items from their house strewn around, and Mom is nowhere to be found.  
  
Pogo is dead, too, Luther tells them, just before Five appears beside them. Diego wants to be mad at him for missing what had just happened, thinking maybe if he had been there, they could have saved Mom, but Diego just stares at the rubble at his feet, trying not to stutter over the words sitting in his mouth. Five tells them that the apocalypse is still happening tonight. Harold Jenkins was merely the fuse, but Vanya was the bomb. 

It's Vanya's fault - their timid, little sister Vanya will cause the destruction of the world and the death of seven billion people if they don't put a stop to it. Luther is prepared to do anything necessary to stop her, but Diego doesn't try to hide his compassion right now, not when his emotions are already in full force. She's their sister. There has to be another way. 

They're sitting in a bowling alley as they discuss it, but they can never just discuss things as adults. Klaus makes a scene, Luther gets upset, and Allison walks out. Five disappears on them without so much as a word and Diego is just _tired_. They're falling apart at the seams, butting heads with each other, lacking direction because Luther doesn't know what he's doing, but won't give up his leadership role-- but frankly, Diego doesn't have any better ideas. They don't have anything to go on except for the fact that Vanya's concert is happening tonight at the Icarus Theatre.  
  
He doesn't even get a chance to think more about it before the shots ring out and he's ducking for cover behind one of the ball returns. There's a handful of people in gas masks shooting at them, and there isn't a doubt in his mind that they're here for them. He starts throwing knives, managing to take a couple of them out, while Luther knocks some of them out with several impressive bowling ball throws, but it's not enough. They're outnumbered and there's seemingly no way out, until Allison points to the lanes and they make their escape by sliding through them, running through the maze that is the back of the bowling alley until they make it outside to safety, agreeing to regroup at the theatre.

Five hates himself for being so easily tricked by the Handler _again_ , drawn away from the fight because she knew he was the most deadly of the bunch, and hadn't even arrived in time to do much good for his family. Vanya was still on the loose and they had only one shot at this. it was going to be dangerous, but they had to try. 

It hurts in his stomach to know that when he'd found his family all dead and strewn across the remains of their childhood home, that it was because of Vanya. All these years he'd been preparing for an apocalypse caused by his own sister. If he hadn't disappeared, or if he'd tried harder to come back sooner-- if he'd aimed earlier in the timeline instead of coming back eight days before the apocalypse... sure, it nearly took all the energy clean out of him to go back that far, but if he hadn't been so selfish with his time with Diego, if he'd just--

There's no point in hypotheticals, he knows. And as his family is forced to face off against their own just to save the world, he knows that they're going to die here. There's no surviving this, there's no surviving the coming storm. As they stand in a huddle, Vanya weak and slumped in the arms of her family as they stare up at the moon while it cracks in half overhead through the hole in the ceiling, Five is overcome with the grief that he wasn't able to save his family after all. 

"Diego," he shouts over the rumbling as the rocks careen towards earth. Now is his only chance to confess, to tell him everything, it doesn't matter if the rest of their family is around them, it doesn't matter if they hear. But his brothers eyes make contact with his, and the words Five was going to say die behind his teeth. He can't just resign himself to failure, he's Five fucking Hargreeves. He's not just going to let his family died after he fought so hard to get them to this point. "We have to go back again," he says instead.  
  
They don't have time to discuss it, or question it. Five has to act fast. He barely has the energy to transport _himself_ across time, but all they need to do is get a little bit of distance from this event, so they can regroup with Vanya, and prevent all of this from happening. 

Of course, it's never that easy. Five should have known better than to think he could drag six people across time with him-- _seven_ , if he counts Ben, and he doesn't know if he should. He could barely make it through time himself, much less with passengers. So of course it goes wrong. He's dropped ass-backwards into a second doomsday, helped only by an elderly Hazel who gives him the key to stopping _this one_ , and sends him back to where he needs to be. 

Exhausted, Five wonders when the last time he slept was as he begins the arduous process of tracking down his siblings, with the help of a gentle if nervous man named Elliot. He first checks hospitals and obituaries, prisons and morgues-- before finally coming across Diego's name at a local asylum of all places. He can't even say he's surprised.

Diego remembers Five’s voice calling out to him, one hand clutching his tightly, the other being crushed by Klaus’ grip, and he blindly follows Five, knowing at this point, he’d trust the other man with his life. 

That trust lands him in Dallas, Texas in September of 1963. He’s alone, no sign of his siblings anywhere, and he doesn’t even get a chance to look for them. The very next day, he’s arrested outside of Lee Harvey Oswald’s house for trying to stop the future assassination of John F. Kennedy and he’s hauled away to a mental institution for paranoia and delusions of grandeur. 

Diego fights it like hell at first, he’s combative and aggressive with guards, psychiatrists, therapists, even other patients. They pump him up with a different cocktail of drugs every week, they restrain him and throw him in a padded cell, they take away his limited privileges until Diego finally begins to relax, only with the hope of getting the fuck out. 

He’s going crazy in an asylum, counting the days he’s been locked up with scratches on the wall he adds to every night with a sharpened plastic spoon. It’s been 75 days. He needs a haircut and a shave. He needs to get out of these white clothes and these non-slip socks. He _needs_ to find his family. He thinks about them everyday, whether they ended up anywhere near him or whether they were even _alive_ at this point. He waits for a familiar flash of blue light and a whooshing sound to whisk him away, but it never comes.  
  
His mind wanders to Five a lot, about how he seemed to have something to say to him, right before this mess happened, but changed his mind about it, how their last conversation alone had been civil, how things had seemingly started to be getting better, but Five was gone again, tearing that freshly-healed wound in his heart open once again. 

With no end to his sentence in sight, Diego begins to formulate a plan, one that the only person he talks to here had quickly picked up on. Lila, somehow, was always there. Diego stopped questioning it and started finding solace in it, in her lopsided grin, her firm and teasing touch, and her soothing English accent that never quite matched the crude words that fell from her lips. 

He’d been sitting with her in the common area, forced into a dedicated arts and crafts time that ended with Diego pushing a tray of wooden beads on to the floor as he spills his plan to her until a guard informs him that he has a visitor. 

He’s led to the visitation room and as soon as Diego sees that familiar face through the window, he’s fighting the urge to jump across the table and throw his arms around Five. He knows that would just end this meeting before it even began. He can’t touch Five, no matter how badly his hands are shaking to reach out and see if he’s real. 

Instead, he sinks into the chair across from him, swallowing thickly as his hands settle in his lap. There are a million words running through his head, all of which he wants to say to the man across from him, but instead he settles on something he knows he won’t stutter over. “Five...”

Five had been ready to tease his brother for getting himself locked up in an asylum, but the words don't make it from his brain to his mouth as soon as he catches sight of him. Unshaven, his hair grown out long and unkempt, he looks like a man who's been extremely poorly taken care of. It's been two and a half months since he's been here, and they hadn't even let him get a _haircut_. It makes sense, though, given how he was arrested-- with multiple knives. He couldn't be trusted around anything sharp. 

It hurts him, to see Diego in such a state. To see him rumpled and disheveled. His mind is awash with all of the should-have-dones and could-have-beens. He hasn't seen Diego with hair this long in... honestly, decades. He remembers the last time Diego's hair had grown out, a few months after he'd first found the man, before he even started talking. He remember diligently grooming him, trimming his hair and beard short by hand. He hadn't been very good at it at first, but it was a skill he cultivated over time. He folds his hands on the table between them, and unconsciously traces the line tattooed over his finger with his opposite thumb. 

"Hello, Diego," he says instead, his words almost sad as the guards put themselves in the corners of the room and shut their ears off to the private conversation about to happen in the middle of the room. "You look good in white." 

It's not a lie, but it's also a bitter compliment, given the fact that he's only _in_ white because he's been institutionalized. Five sighs through his nose, and clenches his hands into fists to resist the urge to reach across the table and brush his hair away from his eyes.

It’s a joke that Diego doesn’t laugh at, mainly because he doesn’t think it’s funny. He’s spent the last two and a half months locked in here against his will, every sense of his identity stripped away from him, the bright white clothes very literally leaving him a blank slate to be molded by the hands of this institution. 

He swallows hard instead, keeping his hands under the table, knowing that if he put them on top of the table, he’d be tempted to reach out to Five. He was lucky enough to be able to be sitting with him right now, he didn’t want to take that chance and ruin it. 

“How’d you find me?” He asks, though he’s dreading the answer already. He knows his face had been plastered all over the city at one point, in the middle of newspaper spreads and on the local news. If Five looked hard enough, finding him would have been a breeze.

"Page sixteen," Five says, and judging by the way Diego's brows furrow, he knows he doesn't need to elaborate further. "They think you're a a _lunatic_ , Diego. You remember the lessons dad taught us about _subtlety?_ You didn't think to-- I don't know, _plan?_ Nothing? Thought you'd just stroll right up to Oswald's place and _knock?"_

Diego lets out a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment when Five brings up that god damn newspaper article, that horrible mugshot of him, and the misleading title. Maybe his initial plan had been too bold, maybe if he'd actually used his brain for once he wouldn’t be sitting in a mental hospital with guards watching his every move, and he wouldn’t have to listen to Five lecture him. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says seriously, opening his eyes and lifting his gaze to look at Five again. “It can’t be a coincidence that I—“ He pauses, realizing it’s not just him now that Five is seated across from him. The others have to be with him. “ _We_ landed in this city at this time “  
  
"We," Five repeats, leaning in, bracing his elbows on the table. His stomach does a little flip of hope, gripping him by the guts. If Diego knows where any of the others are, he might be able to track them down and get the team back together to stop whatever apocalypse is coming next. "Where are the others?"

Diego’s brows knit together at that, his face falling slightly more serious as he finally lets his hands come to rest on the table as he leans in closer to Five. “They’re not with you?” He asks, and the possibilities begin to swirl in his mind. 

Maybe they’re all scattered so far apart it would be impossible to find each other. Maybe they’re trapped in similar situations. Maybe they’re dead, just leaving him and Five left. He quickly pushes that last thought from his mind, knowing deep down that it isn’t true. They’re all out there somewhere and they’ll find them.

Five gives a truly exhausted sigh, from down in his bones, and he reaches up to massage the spot between his eyebrows at the bridge of his nose, where a headache is starting to form. This is turning out to be a fucking nightmare, and he can't tell whether it's the sleep deprivation, dehydration, malnourishment or just plain annoyance that's making him feel this tired. Probably a cocktail of all the above. When he'd jumped his family in time to save them, he'd been prepared to plan for consequences, but he hadn't considered _this_. 

"Okay. Okay," he says, shaking his head. "We can find everyone else. If they're even _here_ , for all we know they could be in different cities, in different _decades_. We can find them. We have to, there's an apocalypse coming."

Judging by Five’s reaction alone, Diego takes that as a no. The others aren’t with him and he hasn’t found them yet. Diego must have been the first one he’s come across and that fact settles deep in the pit of Diego’s stomach, making him fear that the worst had happened to them. 

His curiosity piques when he hears that there’s another apocalypse coming, but he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it. They stopped that apocalypse, or at least they have 60 years to figure out _how_ to stop it, even though by then they’ll be 90 years old, if not dead. 

He leans in closer to Five, an eyebrow arching as he looks at the man sitting across from him. “What do you mean there’s an apocalypse coming? I thought we stopped it.” He asks in a low voice, just in case the guards are listening.

"A different one," Five responds, exhausted, in a low hiss. "I just came from there. Some kind of nuclear war-- I can only assume _we_ cause it, since we're the only new element that's been added to the timeline. Which _also_ means the Commission is going to be up our asses again for screwing with time. So we have to get moving, figure out where everyone else landed, save the world _again_ , and then go home. In that order."

"Why would _we_ cause it?" Diego asks, shaking his head slightly. It isn't that he doesn't believe Five, since as much as hates to admit it, the other man is usually right, but he doesn't understand how the six of them could impact the past so much they could cause a nuclear war. Vanya caused the last apocalypse, but the circumstances are different, or at least Diego thinks they are. It's not like her anger towards them would cause the end of the world _again_. Would it? "I've been locked up in here for the past seventy-five days, it's not like I could do anything to trigger it."

"Maybe your psychotic _fixation_ on Oswald has something to do with it," Five hisses. "We don't know. I couldn't stick around long enough to find out, the missiles were incoming and I--" he grits his teeth, his nostrils flaring slightly. "I saw you all die. _Again_. The missiles landed right as I left. I'm getting pretty fucking tired of watching my family die, so if you could _stow_ your revenge scheme for a week so we can figure out how to get home, that'd be great."

Diego knows Five has watched the people he loves die multiple times and his gaze subconsciously flickers down the line on his ring finger before he can stop himself, his eyes quickly returning to Five's face as he sits forward in his char. "I will..." He begins, but leans a little closer to Five, close enough that the guards take notice, ready to pull Diego back if tries anything. He won't, he's just testing the water. " _After_ I save the president. If you wanna help, just say so."

Five sighs, exhausted, and reaches up to rub a hand over his face. "Jesus christ Diego. Tell me, has your mind always had only one track, or have you _de-evolved_ over time? I seem to remember you being able to hold onto more than one thought in your head at once, but please correct me if I'm wrong." 

He glances warily up at the guards, giving them warning looks with his eyes. They haven't moved yet, but if Diego pushes it much farther he has no doubt they'll yank him back or pin him down, for Five's imagined safety. As if Diego could do a thing to hurt him even if he wanted to.

Diego narrows his eyes at Five, but he quickly realizes now isn't the time to argue with him. The guards are already on edge, threatening to cut off this meeting at any moment, so Diego just sighs quietly and sits back, enough for the guards to get off his ass, but still close enough that only Five can hear him when he whispers. "Look, I'm getting out of here in a day or two." He murmurs, shaking his head slightly. "I've been shaving down the bars in my cell. Lila and I - we're breaking out and we're saving Kennedy, then we can stop this apocalypse."

Five feels a cold spike shoot him straight through the chest at Diego's words. His nostrils flare slightly and the corners of his jaw flex as he squints across the table at his brother. 

"Who the _fuck_ is Lila?" he hisses, baring his teeth like a dog.

Of all the things Diego had just said, he didn't expect Five to latch on to Lila. She was unfamiliar to him, but Five usually didn't get hung up on the details, especially when he'd just disclosed that he was planning to break out. 

"Just this girl that I met," he says with a casual shrug, though his eyebrows knit together at the sudden shift in Five's tone. He sounded annoyed earlier, but now it just feels like _anger_. "She's been helping me plan my great escape."

"Let me get this straight," Five hisses, his heart pounding in his chest. He tries to calm himself down, tries to wait for all the facts, but he can feel the bile rising in his throat. This can't be happening, it isn't _fair_. He hasn't had enough time yet to decide whether he wants to tell Diego everything. He thought he'd made his choice, but then coming so close to losing him again, to losing _everything_ is making him rethink things _again_. This game of ping pong is getting particularly tiring. "You come back to the 60s, get yourself institutionalized immediately, and already found a new woman? Did it not occur to you that an _insane asylum_ might not be the best place for _speed dating?"_

Diego has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Of course Five would jump to that conclusion when there was nothing going on between him and Lila besides a handful of more-than-friendly moments shared when the guards weren't watching them. He wasn't looking for a relationship, just a friend, and in here, they were hard to come by. He'd take what he could get. 

Instead, he leans in again. "She's just my friend," he tells Five. "And even if she weren't, who the hell are you to judge when you disappeared again? I've been in here for more than two months, Five. Where the hell have you been?"

"I got here _yesterday_ , and every second of that time has been spent looking for our family," Five says, his tone clipped and defensive. "I'm stuck in a 13 year old body and time travel is still a hard one for you to wrap your brain around? I'm so fresh out of that theatre we left behind I'd probably still smell like moth balls if you got close enough, I haven't been _anywhere_."

Diego blinks slightly in surprise when he hears that Five hasn't been here nearly as long as he has. It almost isn't fair, he thinks, but it makes him wonder how far back their siblings were and how much time they've already lived out here. He briefly hopes their situations are better than his. 

"You still don't get to judge," he says after a moment, his face falling serious once again as he looks at Five. "The point is, we're leaving. We've got a plan."

"Great. Guess you don't need me then," Five says, standing up from the table abruptly. His chest is still cold, aching with the thought that Diego had found someone else, so soon. He knows it's petty even as he says it, he knows it's his fault that Diego's stuck here in the first place. He knows _everything_ is his fault, if he hadn't left home when he was 13, if he'd been around to love Vanya how she deserved to be loved, none of this would be happening. But it's hard to be angry at himself when he knows that anger will just paralyze him-- it's much easier to be angry at Diego, instead. 

"You guys should check the window in my brother's room," he says instead. "He's planning an escape."

Diego frowns when Five stands up, but he nearly scrambles to his feet when Five tells the guards he's planning on leaving. "What?" He says in surprise, the look on his face very quickly turning from shock to anger as he hears the guards shift behind him and the realization that Five just screwed him over begins to set in.

"You piece of shit!" He growls at Five and doesn't think before he jumps to his own feet, his chair skidding across the floor as he scrambles over the table, but two pairs of strong hands stop him before he can get very far. He hits the table with a force hard enough to make him groan as they press his face into the table with a grip on the back of his neck, preventing him from even lifting his head to look in Five's direction, but he continues to struggle. " _Five!"_

"My poor brother is a _very_ sick man, thank you _so_ much for taking care of him," Five says, his voice clipped and smug as a nurse comes rushing in with a needle full of sedatives. He steps out of the way to let her get at Diego, even though it hurts somewhere in the back of his mind that he's just letting them put his brother away again. It helps that only part of it is pettiness-- part of it is definitely that it's entirely likely Diego's stupid plan to save the president could lead to the very war that he saw just hours ago.

Diego doesn't hear the footsteps approaching, but he feels a third pair of hands on him, softer than the others, and a sharp sting in the back of his arms before he realizes what's happening. "No, please!" His voice cracks, squeezing his eyes shut as the nurse pushes the needle into him, giving him a sedative that already has Diego feeling weak. "Not the needle, please..." It gets harder to struggle and it's even harder for him to lift his head, but he tries to anyway, looking at Five through eyes that continue to blur as the sedative courses through his veins. He only has enough energy to look at his brother with a desperate, pleading expression before everything starts to fade. "Five, please..." he whimpers, his voice barely audible over the commotion in the room.

Five holds his eye, only because he feels like it's the only dignity that Diego deserves, his stomach boiling with anger towards the man face down on the table, towards the nurses holding him down, towards _himself_. There's so much anger in him he wouldn't be surprised to look behind himself as he walks out of the room with his hands in his pockets, and see the foot steps he'd left behind burning and smoking with fire. 

He has to find the others. Eyes forward on the mission, blinders back on the horse. He'll come back for Diego last, when there are enough of their siblings gathered that he doesn't have to fight alone to get the idea out of Diego's head that he's going to save the president and unwrite time. 


	8. Chapter 8

Five finds Luther, next. But Luther won't come with him, a fact that hurts him down to his bones. Luther's total apathy towards the looming second apocalypse makes him feel sick-- but he doesn't have the time to waste convincing him. He'll round up some of the others, and then come back for him. Maybe if he could find Allison, Luther would come with. He sticks his hands in his jacket pockets on the way out of the bar, and finds the box Hazel had left there for him. He returns to Elliot to develop the reel of film he finds inside, and as he's waiting for it to reveal whatever secrets Hazel wanted to impart to him, he overhears on Elliot's radio scanner that there were fugitives on the run from the asylum. 

Apparently Five's warning hadn't been enough for them to stop him. Really, he should have known better. His brother has always been crafty, and now if he's got someone else helping him on the inside... his stomach churns uncomfortably as he thinks about Diego hatching some escape scheme with a random woman. Someone outside the family, someone who can't be trusted. How _Diego_ could trust someone else after everything they'd been through together as a family is beyond him. 

Diego's escape plan came earlier than expected and didn't involve breaking the bars in his room, but rather dislocating his shoulder by breaking out of a straight jacket and a padded cell, then being followed by three men with guns who _definitely_ didn't work for the asylum. He doesn't have time to dwell on who they are and what they want - what he needs to do is find a change of clothes and a place to lay low with Lila for the night, or at least until the news that they escaped dies down. 

If he cared, he would have looked for Five, but his brother _left_ him there, watched him get poked with a sedative and carried away to be locked up against his will. He really doesn't want to see Five at all and Lila, even with her craziness and her sharp tongue, is a good enough distraction for Diego. 

It isn't hard for Five to find them, he just listens for the sound of mommy issues and follows the trail. Upon spotting them, he teleports directly into the back of the car they're hiding in. "Hi," he says, entirely too smug over how badly he startles the woman. He doesn't like her face.

They're outside Lee Harvey Oswald's work in the car they stole from the alley behind the asylum. Diego sits in the passenger seat, explaining the plan to Lila, even as she insults both him _and_ it, and he's half-threatened to kick her out so he can do the job himself, but a familiar flash of blue registers out of the corner of Diego's eyes and he doesn't have to look to realize Five is now sitting in the backseat. 

He watches Lila jump, but he keeps his eyes locked on her. He doesn't even want to _look_ at Five, not after what he did, and he doesn't trust himself not to blow up at him. He doesn't necessarily want to cause a scene in front of Lila. 

"Who the _hell_ are you?" He hears Lila ask and Diego can practically feel the smug look radiating off of Five's face. 

He grits his teeth, still refusing to look towards the backseat as Lila shifts her gaze back to him for answers. "My brother."

"Pleasure," Five says, with absolutely no pleasure in his voice as he looks at her. She looks like a snake to him, or like a weasel. Something unsanitary, dangerous, threatening. He doesn't _like_ feeling threatened, and he tells her with his eyes just how little he cares for her. She either doesn't seem to register it, or she just doesn't care. "Love the shirt, Diego. Back in black already? You really don't waste time."

He can feel himself split nearly in two over how he feels, sitting in a car with Diego and some woman he doesn't know. Some woman _Diego_ doesn't know, who he met in a fucking _asylum_. He knows he wouldn't have appreciated _anyone_ Diego decided to suddenly bring into his life, but the fact that she's from a nuthouse is a particularly fun little curveball they don't need.

Diego doesn't hold back his heavy, annoyed sigh at Five's commentary, or the tone in his voice. He clearly isn't pleased with the situation, but neither is Diego. He still doesn't want to look at him, but he tears his gaze away from Lila, shifting it out the window instead, looking back at the building they were staking out. 

"What do you _want_ , Five?" He asks, uninterested and unamused. He spent two and a half months waiting for him to show up, begging for some sign of him, spending countless nights wondering if he was even alive. It was the same he'd felt when he was thirteen and Five left the first time. Now he wants to be nowhere near him and he wants him out of the car, but gives him an opportunity to explain, even though Diego isn't looking forward to hearing it.

"I found Luther," he says. "We have to go. I've got a lead, and a place to stay. Ditch the crazy lady and let's go."

He should have taken him at the asylum. He should have just reached across the table and grabbed him by the shirt, jumped him somewhere else. Maybe he could have talked him out of his bullshit hero complex, maybe it would have been enough. Maybe he wouldn't be sitting in a car with _her_ now if he hadn't stupidly pushed Diego into her arms. He still doesn't like the way she's looking at him.

Although the news that he found Luther was good, Diego still scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” he mumbles and he feels Lila’s gaze fall on him, but he doesn’t look at her either. He didn’t tell her much about his life, just like she hadn’t said anything about hers. Neither of them asked and Diego found the anonymity of it all comforting. “Not after you left me there to rot.” He adds and his tone is icy, the back of his arm tingling with phantom pains of the needle sliding into it. He has to resist the urge to reach up and touch it just to make sure it isn’t real. “Because you’ll probably just leave again. You always do.”

"I left you there to protect you from yourself," Five hisses. "You're going to get yourself killed going after Oswald again, you think he hasn't wised up since the last time you went crazy on him? If you go forward with this stupid plan, you're going to get stopped by someone a lot stronger and a lot smarter than you. You're doing the _exact_ crazy shit that the people I worked for stop for a living. You're rewriting a whole new fucking timeline, for all we know _I_ could be sent to kill you from the future. I didn't even always know my targets, sometimes I'd just be given a car to blow up from a distance with a well-placed bullet in the gas tank. A car just like this one." 

That at least gets Lila looking around through the windows, while Five glares holes into the back of Diego's head.

Diego finally turns around to face Five, meeting the glare on Five’s face with a matching one of his own. “I know what I’m doing and I’m not afraid of you,” he says lowly, leaning over the back seat as he looks at Five, not backing down from his glare. He wants to grab him by the collar of his stupid jacket and drag him out of the car himself, or maybe punch the smug look off his face, but he stays where he is. “Get out. Now.”

"No," Five says, just as firm. "You don't know _anything_ , Diego. You're stuck in a feedback loop of this hero fantasy of yours and you need to give it up. This isn't the fight we need to be fighting, we have to find our family and save the world so we can finally fucking _rest_. Come with me, forget Oswald, forget Emily--" he remembers he name, he's just saying it wrong on purpose. "And let's get home."

Diego frowns, glancing over at Lila, who is a wearing a similar look and right as he goes to correct her, Lila beats him to. "It's Lila." She says with a faux-smug grin like the one that had been on Five's face moments earlier. "And although your brother can be incredibly stupid, I think he's old enough to make his own decisions." 

Diego glares at her for a moment, but it fades when she places a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looks back at Five. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, his tone firm and final.

Five doesn't like the way Diego's face changes when she touches him. His stomach burns, acidic and painful. Getting _shot_ hurt less than the way he feels now, watching Diego go soft for this-- _woman_. Some part of him knows it's unfair of him to think, but that's a very small part in the face of the anger he feels just looking at them now. 

Movement catches the corner of his eye and he sees a cop walking down the street, hands tucked into his belt. "Fine," he says, as he comes to an awful conclusion. If he can't convince Diego to come with him-- which is honestly fair, considering he'd left him in the asylum yesterday-- then he'll _force_ him to come with. All they need is a little time, if he can just get Diego alone, if he can pry him away from this woman they can get back on track. They can save the world and get home and... he's still not sure what the next step is after that, but he knows it doesn't involve Lila. 

Distantly, he realizes he's being a hypocrite. Back at the bar in their home just a day or two again, he'd said that he wanted to let Diego move on, find someone knew, make his own life choices. He'd thought for sure he meant it, too, because while thinking about Diego with Patch ached a little, it didn't feel like _this_. Now actually _seeing_ Diego with someone else in front of his very eyes, he wants to be sick. He just has to get them apart. 

So he sticks his head out the open window and shouts, "Officer!"

Diego follows Five’s gaze out the window, catching sight of the police officer walking down the street and his eyes flicker back to Five, watching the ideas flash though his mind before Five finally acts on one. 

He turns around in his seat as quickly as he can, his knee pressed into the backrest as his hand reaches over the seat to grab Five by his tie, hauling him back inside the car. “What the _hell_ are you doing?” He asks, but he already knows. 

The cops are looking for him. All they need is a tip in the right direction and Diego will be thrown right back into that place, straight jacket, padded cell, and drug cocktail included. The thought alone makes his stomach churn, his grip white-knuckle tight on his brother to prevent him from trying to grab the cop’s attention again.

"Well, if you won't come with me, I need to make sure you're _somewhere_ I can find you when I'm ready to bring everyone home," Five hisses, giving Diego an insufferably smug grin, despite feeling absolutely no joy in the action. "Otherwise I might leave you behind, and neither of us want that, do we Diego?"

He knows he doesn't. More than anything, he knows he wants Diego home with him.

Diego holds Five’s gaze for a long moment, but he doesn’t say anything, he just searches his face for the real reason that Five is so insistent, but he can’t see anything beyond that smug grin. He wants to force it off Five’s face, but instead he slowly releases his grip on the tie, letting Five fall back into the seat. 

“Fine,” he mumbles, settling back into his own seat, but he looks out the window at the cop, who is well past their car by now. His gaze flickered to Lila. He doesn’t want to get left behind, but Lila saved his ass back there and he can’t exactly throw her to the curb. Five won’t be happy with his bargain, but Diego isn’t necessarily happy with Five now, so says it. “But Lila’s coming with.”

Any brief moment of relief Five felt when Diego agreed is squashed in an instant by those four dreadful words. "Like hell she is," he spits like a viper, sitting forward. "We don't _know_ her, Diego. We can't trust her."

"I'm right here," Lila says indignantly. 

"That's exactly the _problem_ ," Five turns his fury towards her. "What kind of crazy _are_ you exactly, hm? Violent? Delusional? _Psychotic?"_

Diego expects a fight, but the moment Five starts insulting her, he feels the need to protect her, even though Lila has proven that she’s more than capable of depending herself. “Hey,” he says firmly, his deep voice cutting through the car and making Five turn his attention towards him. “Knock it off. If you want me to come with, she’s coming too. That’s final.”

Five wants to put his foot down. But more than that, he wants to believe that if he _did_ put his foot down, Diego would actually listen. And right now he can't say that he believes that, a fact which he know she has nobody to blame but himself. If he'd just pulled Diego out of the asylum when he had the chance, he could have taken him away from her. He could have tucked him under his arm and brought him home, he could have been free to make up his mind on what to do next when they finally had the time to breathe. 

Foolishly, he'd thought that he would be teaching Diego a lesson about how Five felt in regards to the idea of Diego inviting someone new into his life. He'd certainly taught Diego a lesson-- but entirely the wrong one. If he can get some time with him, maybe he can teach him something else. 

"Fine," he says finally, bitter and angry. "Now drive back to the alley where you first arrived. We're staying with an acquaintance."  
  
Diego waits, slightly impatient, but he doesn’t say anything else until Five finally breaks the silence. He truthfully doesn’t want to leave Lila behind, but he also knows that just having her around is making Five upset and after everything Diego’s been through, giving Five a little bit of discomfort doesn’t seem like such a big deal. It even kind of feels good.

His shoulders relax slightly when Five finally agrees and he looks at Lila in the driver’s seat. “Move,” he says, pointing to his own seat, but she merely smiles at him and instead of opening the door to climb out, she swings a leg over him, her hands coming to rest on his chest as she climbs over him and settles into the passenger seat, leaving Diego to slid over himself. 

He stares at her for a moment, quietly clearing his throat before he moves into the seat she had just been occupying, turning the keys in the ignition and starting the car. He reaches up to adjust the mirror, catching a glimpse of Five in the backseat and he holds his gaze for a brief moment.

"Classy," Five breaks his gaze with Diego to glare at Lila. "I'm an impressionable youth, you know. Might not know a thing about the birds and the bees. Are _you_ gonna answer all my questions?"

As the car turns over and pulls off the curb, his whole body feels flushed with anger. It wouldn't be hard, really, to grab her and teleport her somewhere out into the middle of the sky, and jump back before she's even hit the ground, so fast Diego wouldn't even notice. He could even drop her directly onto the hood of this fucking car, if he _really_ wanted to make a point. But it strikes him then, the kind of murderous rage that's being sparked in him by the presence of this woman, and he knows it wouldn't be fair to Diego. 

He'd told himself he wanted Diego to make his own choices... so it needs to be _his_ choice to leave Lila behind and come home, where he belongs. He'd never stop resenting Five for the rest of his life if Five made that choice for him, even if it's the right one. It has to be Diego's idea, his free will that brings him to that point. And so he lets Lila live.

Diego doesn’t respond. He’s usually always one to get the last word in, but he lets Five have it. It’s enough that he was able to convince him to let Lila join them, he doesn’t need to push his luck and make Five act on the thoughts Diego knows must be circling his mind. 

Instead, he tries to remember exactly where he landed. It’s been two and a half months since he’s seen the outside that wasn’t from the reinforced courtyard of the hospital and his mind is a little cloudy, but he eventually finds it - the alley on Commerce and Knox. 

He parks the car and looks over his shoulder at Five, throwing his arm over the backrest so he could properly turn to him. “Alright, why the hell are we here?” He asks, sparing a glance in Lila’s direction as she looks around with more confusion than him.

"Just come on, I'll explain inside," Five says, and in full view of Lila, disappears in a snap of blue light. A moment later Diego hears Five's voice from overhead, and when he leans out the door, sees him overhead, leaning out of a second story window in the alley. "Don't drag your feet."

He introduces Diego to Elliot, but doesn't bother introducing LIla. Diego does the honors for her, and she's left with her questions as Diego and Five watch the footage Elliot had developed for them, which shows the JFK assassination-- and more horribly, their own father, present at the scene of the crime on that grassy knoll, standing under his fucking umbrella. 

It's a lot to take in. Five would have expected Diego to be the one to have the melt down, but surprisingly, it's Lila. Five doesn't know what to make of it.

Diego doesn’t know what to make of it, either. Five had laughed at him when he’d said that the reason they were here had to do with JFK and now seeing this video of their father at the assassination just confirms it, but it also leaves Diego’s head spinning with questions.

They decide to pursue it, finding their father’s address here in Dallas and makes plans to go look for him, but just before they’re about to leave, he remembers the look on Lila’s face when Five materialized in front of her and as she watched the footage of an event that hasn’t happened yet and as he largely ignored most of her questions because he’d been so engrossed in the video of their father. 

“Gimme a sec,” he murmurs to Five as he leaves him by the doorway to look for Lila, eventually finding her in the closet Elliot had been using as a dark room. She’s sitting on a table in the corner, tucked as far into the room as she could possibly be and Diego truly feels for her in that moment. 

It’s a lot to process and she thinks she’s going crazy again, but Diego reassures her that she’s not. He does a shit job at explaining all that he can without revealing too much, but it seems to calm some of her nerves, enough so that she can smile at him as he pinky-promises that it’s going to be alright. It’s a tender moment, one that Diego hadn’t expected to leave his heart beating a bit faster, but he can feel it fluttering in his chest as he leaves to meet Five by the doorway again.

She scoots past them and into the bathroom to clean herself up and fix her mascara, as Diego is confronted by his brother standing in the hallway, hands tucked into his shorts pockets and eyes squinted up at him. 

"What the _hell_ was that?" he hisses without even looking in the direction that Lila disappeared to. His heart feels less like it's beating and more like it's squeezing in his chest. The softness Five had seen in his eyes for her, and the way it turned to ice as soon as he saw Five is enough to make that ring around his finger burn again. The longer he spends with Diego in his life, the farther and farther he feels from the memory of his husband, and the keener he feels the loss of that unwritten timeline.

Diego gives Five an incredulous look, his eyes narrowing at him as he shakes his head softly. “What do you mean? She was clearly overwhelmed,” he hisses back, glancing over his shoulder where Lila disappeared to. He didn’t know if she was still in earshot, but he moved closer to Five anyway. “What was I supposed to do? Leave her to panic in a fucking closet?”

Diego imagines Five will say yes. He knows that Five can be incredibly compassionate to their family and their family _alone_. Add anyone else to that mix and he’ll show them enough ice to freeze them down to their bones. Lila’s resilience is strong, though, Diego has learned through two and a half months of sitting next to her at group therapy sessions. It’ll take a lot more than that to make her run.

"I saw the way you were _looking_ at her," Five hisses. 'You can't get close to her, Diego. If you get attached, you're going to want to bring her with, and she belongs _here_ , in the 1960s. You can't start displacing people just because you like them."

Honestly, it is a valid argument... but it's not the main reason he's up in arms. He feels like a pretender even to himself. _He'd_ been displaced in time after all. Granted it was the worst experience of his life and also made up _most_ of his life, and bringing someone from the 60's to the later 2010's wouldn't be the worst thing to adjust to, but his point still stands. The Commission would be after them in a heartbeat to correct the mistake.

Diego frowns at Five's implication, shaking his head slightly at him. "She's just a friend and I was just helping her," he insists, but he isn't sure whether he's trying convince Five or himself. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of not returning home and leaving Lila behind. If Five asked him yesterday, he probably would have tossed her aside without a second glance, but today, Diego isn't sure. 

He glances down the hallway again before he sighs and looks towards Five. "That isn't going to happen. I'm not _attached_ ," he mumbles, but it isn't very convincing as he holds the door open and begins to make his way out. "Let's go."

Five throws his hand up to catch Diego by the chest, and shoves him back into the room, closing the door behind them and plunging them into the red-lit semi darkness. "I'm _serious_ , Diego," he says, talking through his teeth like he does when he's patronizing, speaking slowly as if his brother is too stupid to understand him. "You can't just _collect_ people like stray animals. We have a job to do, why is she even here? She can't help us, she doesn't know anything _about_ us. Why did you drag her along, just to spite me? You don't care about her."

His eyes narrow up at his brother. "You _don't_ care about her, do you, Diego?"

Diego is about to protest when Five stops him, but then he's shoving him into the room he'd just been in with Lila, but instead of comforting her, Five was just berating him now. "Jesus, she's one person, Five," he says, sounded exasperated and annoyed. "And she saved my ass at the asylum after _you_ left me there." He pokes his finger at Five's chest, partially to push him out of his space. 

If Diego didn't know any better, it would almost seem like Five was jealous, but that thought was ridiculous. He figures Five probably just hates her because she's an outsider, because she can't be trusted, but Diego trusts her more than he's willing to admit, and he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "Why do you care if I do or not?" He asks, shaking his head slightly. "Are you gonna throw this same fit if Klaus cares about somebody, too? Or Vanya? Or _any_ of them - are you gonna accuse them of being stupid for making friends?"

"You can make all the friends you want when we're back _home_ ," Five hisses. "I already have Luther saying he doesn't care about the apocalypse coming this week, and I'm not about to let _you_ want to stay behind too. I need you to focus on the goal of getting home and stop fraternizing with people who are gonna be dead already by the time we get back to where we belong. If you start getting attached to people, you might not want to come back and I _need_ you--"

His words falter, a little too close to reveal old ground he's not ready to retread yet, and he huffs an angry breath, running his hand over his hair. "I need _all of you_ to come home," he finishes finally, his words still seething. "That _woman_ is a distraction, Diego. The sooner you drop her the easier it'll be to leave her here when we go."

"You've been here for a day, Five. You can't expect me to go two months without talking to a single person," Diego scoffs, dropping his hand back down from Five's chest. He wants to get out of this suffocating room, but Five is blocking is way and even though a simple push would move him out the way, Diego doesn't want this to get worse than it needs to be. He just wants to find dad and then come back here and pass out in a real comfortable bed for the first time in a while. 

His eyes narrow at Five's words, holding his gaze for a long moment as he corrects himself and Diego is trying to process exactly what it means. He can't wrap his head around it, and the look on Five's face does little to clear the confusion. Instead, he just shakes his head, reaching past Five to push the door open, hoping he'd take it a sign that this conversation was over. "I'll drop her when I feel like it. That's not up for you to decide."

Five growls in frustration and grabs the back of Diego's shirt to keep him from leaving, even after opening the door. "Just-- _tell_ me you aren't losing your head over her," he says, keeping his tone in a low hiss. " _Tell_ me you don't care about her. Tell me right here that you aren't going to ditch your family for her."

Diego didn't hide his annoyed sigh when Five grabbed his shirt and kept them there, glaring down at him as he brought his own hand up to tightly grip Five's wrist, his entire hand wrapping around it with a grip strong enough to hurt, but if Five was feeling it, he wasn't showing it. "I'm _not_ ," he growls back, leaning in so he's only a few inches from Five's face. "But while she's here, I'm gonna talk to her and hang out with her, so if that bothers you, get over it."

Five watches Diego's face for a long moment, green eyes flicking back and forth across his features, searching for the lie. Searching for something to keep digging his fingers into, to justify his anger and pain. He finds nothing, and sighs through his nose. " _Fine_ ," he says, releasing Diego's shirt, and Diego releases his wrist in kind. "Make sure it stays that way."

And in a flash of blue, he's gone. 

He needs space, he needs to cool down. He jumps up to the roof of the building to just pace for a few minutes, his stomach churning with the knowledge that Diego's probably down there right now, checking in with that _woman_. He sits down on the edge of the roof and grips his hair with both hands to try and calm himself down. Lila doesn't deserve his anger, she hasn't actually _done_ anything to deserve it except be charming enough to get Diego's attention. But that alone makes him want her dead. 


	9. Chapter 9

Five doesn't jump back down to Elliot's shop until he's calm enough to make a game plan with Diego. The two of them are going to Reginald's warehouse to track him down and hopefully get some answers, and upon arriving, they decide to split up to try and maximize the ground they can cover in search of their father, in search of answers. Unfortunately Five finds himself face to face with a monkey he both does and doesn't recognize who gives him an awful scratch on his neck, but other than an invitation of some kind he turns up ultimately empty handed.  
  
When the two of them split up at their father's warehouse, Diego doesn't think much of it. They'll cover more ground this way and truthfully, he's still kind of annoyed with Five. He blows up at him and then leaves him alone for an hour, then pretends like nothing happened. It's consistent for the way things work between the two of them, but he still considers it annoying.

He hears the man before he sees him, a door opening and heavy footsteps retreating down the hallway, and Diego follows without a second thought, wondering if this is their father. He's led out to the loading zone, only to lose the figure in the darkness.

The ensuing fight is enough to get Diego's blood pumping. Two and a half months locked away and he isn't rusty in the slightest, but this man is impressive, able to dodge a knife throw that Diego had been almost certain would hit him square in the chest. It's a fair fight until Diego gets the man on his knees and his arm pauses the swing he was just about to take, the light hitting the man's face just right, and--

" _Dad?"_ He asks, just as there's a searing-hot pain in stomach. He stumbles, but he holds his father's gaze, even as he calls him an amateur, twists and pulls the knife from his gut, leaving Diego to fall to his knees with a pained groan. He's in shock, he thinks, too caught up in seeing their father to call out for help.

He wakes up on Elliot's couch to the most excruciating pain he's ever felt in his life and he suddenly remembers what had happened. He lifts his head, finding Lila in his lap, attempting to cauterize the wound in his side and he groans, dropping his head back onto the cushions. "What happened?" He asks, his voice slightly hoarse, and he clears his throat before he looks around the room, not seeing any sign of Five. "Where's Five?"

"Shut up or you'll bleed faster," Lila replies, crouched on top of him like a feral cat as she digs a soldering iron into the wound, and Diego _shouts_. "You've been unconscious for like an hour, I dunno where your brother is. Could do without him, I think." She digs the iron in again, maybe taking a little bit too much pleasure in the way he howls and bucks under her. "You're lucky he didn't get you anywhere good or you'd be _dead_ right now. Lucky too I found you when I did."

The weight settled on top of him feels more substantial than he would expect-- not that she's heavier than he would have thought, but that the pressure of her body on his feels more intense than his expectation. And that's when it strikes him that he's completely nude on the couch, covered only in a thin sheet to protect his modesty. The only thing between them that keeps her from sitting directly on his skin.

Diego can’t even reply before she presses the hot iron into his side, drawing another pained shout from his lips as his head hits the cushions and his hands come up to grip the first thing he can find, which happens to Lila’s thighs. His fingers press firmly into her skin and as she pulls the iron back and presses a piece of cotton over his wound, he slowly lifts his head to look at her. He realizes then, that he’s naked, she’s straddling him, and he can see up her dress. 

He’s suddenly aware of how warm she is, or maybe _he’s_ the one that’s too warm, but her skin is just as hot as the iron rod that’s now discarded on the coffee table. He swallows thickly, averting his gaze back to her face as his hands slowly fall from her thighs. “Were you _following_ me?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbows with a quiet groan as it tugs at the wound, but he ignores it.

"You should _thank_ me," Lila shoves him back down with a hand on his chest, and it's a testament to his weakness that she's actually able to flatten him with minimal effort. Diego gasps quietly when she pushes him, his back hitting the cushions just from the power of her hand on his chest. He doesn’t fight it, but he doesn’t thank her either. He’s still hung up on how she knew where to find him and how she got him home. "Your brother wasn't gonna do it, was he?"

As if summoned by the very mention of his existence, there's a thump that heralds Five's arrival. He appears in the room just a few feet away, clutching the side of his neck. Five freezes at the sight of them, ice running through his veins as he takes them in. Naked and on top of one another. He's not an idiot, he sees that she's giving him some kind of medical attention, but he also sees Diego's naked thigh hanging out of the sheet and _knows_ he didn't have to be naked for her to get at a wound in his stomach. 

"Really?" Five says coolly as he grabs a cloth from the scraps Lila had been using to tend to Diego, to press into the cuts on the side of his neck. "I leave you alone for an hour and you jump each others bones. Classy."

Diego hears the familiar sound of Five landing in the room and he quickly turns his head to look at him. He catches the look on his face when he sees them, but gets distracted by the bleeding scratches on the side of his neck. He frowns, trying to sit up once again to get a better look at his brother. “What happened to you?” He asks, eyes following Five as he grabs the cloth and presses it to his neck, ignoring the situation Five is berating him for, but Lila makes no move to get off his lap.

"Oh you suddenly care?" Five says, his tone harsh. 

"You want a turn?" Lila offers, lifting the soldering iron. 

" _Pass_ ," Five sneers, looking at the two of them disdainfully-- but particularly Diego. He gives his brother a withering, betrayed expression, remembering the words his brother had said just earlier that morning. When he promised he didn't actually care about Lila, that he wasn't attached-- and now looking at them, it makes him feel sick. "Please, don't let me interrupt your consummation."

Diego narrows his eyes at Five, but as soon as he sees Lila lift the iron rod again, his eyes widen as he turns his head back towards her. “Fuck, no, put it down.” He says firmly, but she’s just smiling wickedly at him as she presses it into his side again and another pained shout leaves him. 

His eyes open again after a moment, once Lila pulls the iron away but his skin is still burning as his eyes search for Five over the uneven rise and fall of his chest. He sees the look on his face, almost like betrayal and it hurts worse than the pain in his side. “You’re not interrupting,” he mumbles, raising a hand to motion at Five’s neck. “What the hell happened to your neck?”

"I ran into Pogo," Five says impatiently, pulling the cloth back to check how badly the cuts are bleeding, and finds both of his hands sticky and dyed red. He sighs. "Before he was _Pogo_. He attacked me."

"I assume you know who that is," Lila looks between the two of them.

"If you don't know by now you aren't as close to Diego as you think you are," Five says bitterly as he rips off a length of medical tape from the roll and uses it to tape gauze to the side of his neck.

"Oh I dunno mate," she says, giving a cheeky rock of her hips in Diego's lap. "Reckon I'm closer to him than you are."  
  
“Pogo? You found Pogo?” Diego asks, butting into the conversation between the two of them, but he goes largely ignored as they choose to continue bickering with one another. He sighs quietly, but it turns into more a breathy moan when Lila rolls her hips against his own. 

Five's eyes go dark then, his lip curling. "Reckon so," he shoots back, all acid. "If my brother had any self respect, you wouldn't be. Have fun with your cockwarmer Diego, I'm actually going to try and get some work done."

He doesn't. He disappears in a flash of blue light, but he just goes up to the roof again, doubling over to put his head between his knees, and tries not to hyperventilate.

He catches Five’s eye just before he disappears, his words echoing in his mind. He thinks he has no respect for himself, which Diego would have laughed at in any other situation, and the way he views Lila in such a degrading light definitely would have gotten Diego up in arms if Five hadn’t already popped out of the room. “Shit,” he mumbles, pushing himself to sit up, ignoring the sting. He needs to talk to Five, but he knows he could be anywhere by now. “I gotta— Shit. Let me up, Lila.”

"He's _gone_ , you idiot," she says, though her words aren't unkind. She sets the iron down on the coffee table and pushes him back down again with both hands this time, her palms sliding across his chest and shoulders. "No tellin' where pint size lit off to, and you're laid up. Gotta _stay_ laid up."

She shifts her hips on top of his again in a way that can't be unintentional, her short dress riding higher up her spread thighs until the skirt settles around her hips, not at all bothered by the fact that her panties are on full display as her hands slide up to hold both sides of his neck.

"Bitter little shit's just jealous big brother has a girl in his lap when he don't, let him go."

Diego knows that Lila is right, but it’s still hard for him to wrap his head around. He hasn’t seen Five in weeks and somehow, he’s already managed to piss him off, just like when Five came back and wanted nothing to do with him. Diego is tired of this back-and-forth, but talking to Five seems impossible these days, and Lila is right here and Diego isn’t going to push her away when the only other person he cares about is pushing him away. 

His thoughts turn to mush when Lila rolls her hips again, his gaze shifting up to her as settles back into the couch with defeat. His catches a glimpse of white fabric between her legs as her dress rides up and Diego can’t help but let his gaze linger, his hands slowly coming up to rest on her thighs. “I doubt it,” he murmurs, knowing it’s not the kind of jealousy that Lila’s referring to, but he doesn’t explain any further, doesn’t want to as his eyes slowly trail back up to her face.

She's on him in an instant, muttering something about how Diego has to stop thinking about Five, and practically pours herself over his body. Her hands are on him, around him, and with her help he's dragged into Elliot's spare bedroom, where she puts on quite a show riding him until the bed frame knocks into the wall. She doesn't let him roll over to take control even when he tries, insisting he stay on his back to rest his injury. She can take it from the top.  
  
It was frankly a long time coming, despite Five's insistence that Diego not let himself get too close. Lila has had a way of drawing Diego in from the start-- like a black hole, inexorable and wild. 

While it's almost certainly a bad idea, once the snowball has started down the hill it's impossible to stop. Even if Diego was able to compartmentalize as well as he thinks he can, it's probably not fair to her, to lead her on and let her think she's something more than she is. It's hard to keep his thoughts in his head, however, when she bounces in his lap like she was born to do it. It's all Diego can do to hold onto her hips and stare up at her. He takes her all in like he’s drowning and she’s the freshest breath of air he’s ever taken. 

He can’t think of Five. For the first time since his return, his thoughts are wiped clean of him, his smug grin, his sharp tongue, his cold touch, and when he comes, it’s Lila‘s name falling from his lips, not Five’s.

Maybe this was exactly what he needed, he convinces himself as he’s laying with Lila, his fingers gently tracing circles on her inner thigh as she settles across his chest, one of her legs thrown over his. As the thoughts of Five creep back, he’s distantly aware of the game of tug-of-war his heart is playing, Lila pulling on one side and Five pulling on the other. He wants to look for him again, but Lila is so warm and so intoxicating that he can’t imagine moving anytime soon.

Despite having Lila pressed up against his side, it's Five he falls asleep thinking about, and it's Five who occupies his thoughts still when he wakes. Lila is on the side of the bed getting dressed when he wakes up, the light slanting across her back as she pulls her turtleneck on over her head, and flips her hair out of the neck. She hears him rustle and turns around to look over her shoulder at him with a little smirk. 

"Morning," she crawls back over to him to give him a kiss. "Gimme a sec and I'll change out your dressing, right? Probably all bled through by now." 

A figure appears in the frosted glass of Elliot's door, and before Lila even has a chance to pull her dress on, the door swings open to admit Five, mid-sentence, looking rumpled and wild. "--we have to get moving, Diego--"

Lila sits down quickly to cover her legs with a sheet so she doesn't flash the child, as Five freezes in the doorway. His expression is neutral, _cold_ even as he glances around the room, at the sheets all akimbo and the clothes and pillows tossed around, at the two half naked people laying in the bed. He doesn't react immediately, a master of poker faces in his own right, but Diego sees the little flex at the corners of his jaw when he clenches his teeth. Five takes in a long, slow breath, and forces down the bile rising in his soul. Now isn't the time it's _not_ the time, he tells himself desperately. Just hold it in until it's safe to let it out. 

"I found Vanya," he says, his voice clipped, ice cold and more than a little harsh, and without elaborating, he yanks the door closed hard enough that the glass rattles in the door frame, and Lila flinches a little. 

"Testy thing, isn't he?" she chuckles awkwardly, already making moves towards Diego again. "So much anger in such a li'l body."

Diego suddenly feels guilty. Five was out looking for their family and he’d spent the night 'getting to know' a woman he _still_ hardly knew. The guilt settles in his chest like a brick, preventing him from moving as he sees the flicker at the corner of Five’s mouth before the other man leaves the way he came from. 

He sighs as Lila begins to move towards him and he quickly pushes himself to sit up, ignoring the way his side burns from the sudden movement. “I gotta talk to him,” he mumbles, searching around for his clothes. He finds his underwear on the ground near the door and as he stands up to grab them, he stumbles slightly, catching himself on the dresser. “I’m _fine,_ ” he insists as Lila starts to come towards him, grabbing his underwear off the ground and slipping them on, along with a pair of black pants he finds in one of the drawers. He presses a hand over the bloody bandage on his side with a wince as he steps out into the hallway to look for Five.

Five is standing on the balcony overlooking the first floor, talking quietly with Elliot, and he looks up with a harsh expression that seems to make the other man nervous, as Lila comes out of the bedroom, adjusting her dress around her hips. She looks from Diego to Five, and then locks eyes with Elliot. 

"Oy, wanna go find breakfast?" she offers the man, who immediately jumps at the opportunity to get out of the apartment and out of the cloud settling over Diego and Five like a storm. 

The door barely has time to close before Five jumps across the room with a snap of his powers, past Diego and into the kitchen, where he pours himself a cup of coffee that he'd been brewing. He doesn't address Diego or even look at him, taking a sip of the too-hot coffee. It burns all the way down his throat in a way that feels good.

Diego doesn’t say anything until after Lila and Elliot have left, after her hand playfully brushes up his back on her way out, making him stand a little straighter, not just because of the touch. 

He turns as Five materializes in the kitchen, slowly crossing the room to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches the other man pour himself a cup of coffee. “Alright,” he breaks the silence, not trying to hide the annoyance in his voice as he folds his arms over his chest. “What the hell’s up with you?”

"Oh, hey Diego. Suddenly feeling like your family's a priority? Great, I'm glad my presence is convenient for you again," he says coldly, jumping back across the kitchen again, away from Diego to sit at the small table and get himself out of his space. He hates that he can _smell_ her on Diego, past the iron ichor of blood. "I'm _so glad_ you could take the time to get your dick wet while Vanya and I cowered in a corn field all night hiding from assassins. Really happy for you."

Diego sighs when Five moves away, but he remains where is in the doorway, arms still folded across his bare chest as he watches the other settle a safe distance away from him. Even though he’s so far away, the ice of his voice still hits Diego, enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “I don’t know if you missed it, but I got fucking _stabbed_ yesterday,” he says, motioning to the bandage covering his side. “If you wanted me to come along, you should have just said something instead of throwing a temper tantrum.”

"Oh, no, I noticed," Five says coolly after taking a sip of his coffee. His smirk is a humorless sneer. "I walked in on you getting first aid _cowgirl-style_ , remember?"

He'll never forget the sight. For one horrible moment he felt like he'd walked in on his husband being unfaithful, only for it to come crashing back down on him that Diego _isn't_ his husband at all. He'd kept him at arm's length in a foolish attempt to let him make his own choices. He should have known Diego would have made _bad_ ones, if given the freedom.

“And that’s all it was,” Diego says, but it’s pointless. In that moment, it might have only been Lila helping him, but fifteen minutes later it _had_ turned into a lot more, and he knew that Five knew. 

Diego told Five he wasn’t getting close to Lila, that he wasn’t going to let her come between him and his family, and he’d already gone against that. Maybe if Five were only mad about that, he wouldn’t be so annoyed, but he could tell his anger went beyond that.

" _That's all it was_ ," Five licks his teeth like a dog, jaw flexing as he shakes his head with a scoffing sigh. He stands up from the table, bracing his hands against the table top. Anger bubbles up like lava in his throat, and he can't keep it down this time. He's exhausted, he hasn't had a decent meal or sleep in days, and now he has to watch all of his siblings make the worst decisions of their lives. He's at his breaking point, and the lava erupts from his mouth from the pressure. "Are you _sure_ about that? Because what _I saw_ was you rolling over to put your cock in a new girl before Patch's body even went _cold_."

The second Diego hears her name fall from Five’s lips, his blood runs hot and he moves forward, quick enough to tug painfully at the wound in his side, but Diego barely feels it over the ache that starts to grow in his chest. “ _Don’t_.” His hands hit the other side of the table as he stops in front of it, leaning over so he’s face to face with Five. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about her like that.”

"Who, _me?"_ Five doesn't back down an inch, eyes narrowing as he meets Diego's gaze. He doesn't cower or backpedal, he faces god directly as he walks backwards into hell. He's been too tired for too long to withstand this, the final blow. " _I've_ crossed a line? I seem to remember _someone_ saying they weren't going to let things get too deep with Lila. I remember _someone_ saying she didn't matter. Tell me Diego, did she _taste_ better than Patch?"

Diego had come to terms with the fact that Patch was dead. He’d put her to rest, he’d talked about her to a god damn therapist, he’d gotten _over_ her, but hearing Five bring her up, open up her casket and drag her body through the mud to bring her back to him makes his blood boil. “ _Fuck_ you,” he spits, his hands pressing hard into the table as he fights the urge to get his hands on Five and let him know exactly what he’s feeling. “You don’t know anything about what’s going on, so shut the hell up.”

"You think I don't know?" Five's smirk is practically a grimace as he faces his brother with rage simmering in his voice. "You think I can't recognize trauma bonding when I see it, Diego? I _told_ you not to get close to her, I _told_ you to prioritize your family but the second she put out you _put in_. I was so _stupid_ to think I could count on you. I hope the two of you are very happy together. I'll be sure to visit you in your nursing home when I bring the rest of our family back home."

Diego wants to smack the look off Five’s face, but his hands remain planted on the table, even though his arms are practically shaking with anger. “Trauma bonding...” He repeats, scoffing slightly as he shakes his head. “Jesus, Five, have you ever had a fucking friend in your life or do you just get off on pushing everyone away?”

"Better than getting off to _betraying my family_ ," Five bites back, hard and mean, and looking very much like he's trying to give Diego a reason to hit him. Honestly he is-- at least if Diego hit him, he'd feel like he has a justifiable reason to be angry at him. It'd be easier to stomach than this jealous agony burning a blackened hole through his stomach.

“I’m not _betraying_ anybody!” Diego says, the frustration clear in his voice as he finally drags his hands off the table, letting them fall to his sides as he takes a step back. He doesn’t actually want to hit Five, doesn’t want to open that fight up and make things even worse. “You know, I wonder what your husband would say about all this,” he muses, and it’s a low blow, but Five had started it by bringing up Patch. “If he knew how much of a dick you’ve become.”

"Lucky for him, he died long before he ever had to see it," Five seethes, even as the ring around his finger aches with the memory of the man he used to be, back when his Diego knew him. He didn't exactly mean to tell Diego in as many words that he used to be soft-- he doesn't want the man to think about it for too long and start asking questions about what happened to him to harden him like this. Hopefully if he thinks about it at all, he'll just assume it was his husband's death that made him close off.  
  
“Yeah, lucky him,” Diego mocks, practically rolling his eyes at Five. He remembers what Five told him, about how he’d nursed that man back to health, how he’d spent thirty years looking out for him, how he’d carried his body back to his home just to give him a proper burial. Five can claim that he’s never cared for somebody before, but Diego knows better. “Well, when you find him again, I hope he’s ready to see you like this.”

 _When Five finds him again_. He wants to scream that he's standing right in front of him now, that he's _already_ seen Five like this, already _hates_ him. He's trapped in this gut-wrenching paradox in which he can't stand to see Diego with anyone else, but knows he wouldn't want Five as he is now. Even if he did before, even if that fleeting memory of the park still clings onto hope at the back of his mind, he can feel that rope fraying. 

Just because there's no hope for them, though, doesn't mean he's going to let Diego make the stupidest decision of his life and fall for a woman out of time. Maybe he could stand to sit idly by and let Diego find someone else in the time period they _belong_ in, in their home when they're safe-- but not here, not now, and _not her_. That's what he tells himself, at least. He has to take this all one step at a time. 

"Unlike you I can actually keep my eyes on the mission," Five says bitterly. "Your pathetic scrambling after a woman you can't take with you is really sad to watch. Maybe next time you get stabbed you'll let your brother with a lifetime of experience with first aid tend to you instead of a crazy bitch from an insane asylum who followed us there without even being invited. Do you even know _why_ she followed us? Pretty fucking suspicious Diego. How _convenient_ she spread her legs before you could get it in your head to think critically or ask questions."

“You weren’t there!” Diego says, but the edge has come back to his voice, straining slightly with frustration, or exhaustion, or some other emotion that Diego can’t quite place because his mind is scrambling as this conversation continues. “Dad _stabbed_ me and left me for dead and where were you?” 

"Oh _grow up,_ Diego," Five sneers. "I was getting a columbian necktie from a chimpanzee, _you're_ the one who couldn't keep it together long enough for me to find you."

Diego moves closer once again, but the table still stands between them, acting as a barrier that neither of them wants to cross. “I _did_ ask,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m _glad_ she was following us because she saved my ass. Maybe _you_ should thank her.” Diego knows Five won’t. If Five had his way, he figures he probably wouldn’t even glance towards Lila ever again, and he won’t be surprised if he ever does.

"Thank her! That's rich!" Five shouts back. "I'm not going to _thank_ the viper who sunk her fangs into my thick-headed brother! You're _blind_ , Diego-- you can't see past the ass she's waving in your face long enough to wonder _why_ she followed us."

“Jesus _christ_ Five, will you get over it? Yeah, I _fucked her_. Is that what you want to hear?” Diego throws his hands in the air before slamming them back down on the table. "Does it feel better for you if I say it out loud?"

"You're a selfish piece of shit, Diego," Five says, jabbing a finger in his direction without making contact. He's sure that if that contact is made, it'll turn into an all-out brawl, and no matter how pissed off he is at Diego, he won't fight him while he's injured. "I was doing my _fucking_ job, getting attacked by Pogo and then saving Vanya in that order, while you were here getting your COCK sucked--"

All at once, there's a crash from between them. It happens so suddenly that they both lurch back away from the table, following the line that Five's coffee cup had made from the middle of the table into the wall, where it smashed into pieces, raining white porcelain across the floor and dripping black coffee down the wall. 

He knows Diego didn't do it. He saw both of his hands on the table-- he'd been tracking them closely in fact because he'd been anticipating a swing at any second. And he knows _he_ didn't do it. Which means his coffee cup just flew off the table for no good goddamn reason and smashed into the wall. He looks between the wall and the table, up at his equally startled brother, and then back to where the coffee is running down the wall without a word. He doesn't have a clue what to say.

Diego raises his hand as Five points at him, fully ready to smack his hand away, but before he can move, before Five can even finish the sentence that Diego doesn’t want to hear, he’s jumping back a foot, watching the cup of coffee that Five had been drinking drip down the side of the wall. His heart is beating fast as he looks between Five and the shattered cup on the floor, then around the room, but it’s clearly just the two of them, and neither of them had thrown it. There was no blue flash to indicate that Five had done it while Diego blinked, and judging by the look on his brother’s face, he was just as confused. 

He swallows thickly, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Let it go, Diego, he tells himself. He doesn’t need to get the last word in, doesn’t need to let this childish fight continue for any longer when he knows that finding their family and figuring out what their father is up to is their priority. The news that Five found both Luther and Vanya so far is good, and he hadn’t even had a chance to ask about either of them yet. “Vanya—“ He finally says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. “Where is she?”

Five peels his eyes away from the wall after a moment, the tension sufficiently broken-- though how or by who, he has no idea. Diego might be able to manipulate anything he can throw, but he actually has to throw it first-- so he knows Diego didn't do it. Plus, he looks just as rattled by the sudden projectile as he is. 

"On a farm, a little ways away," Five answers finally. The anger in his chest hasn't let up, has barely even quenched whatsoever, but he knows when to pick his battles. He can't get through to Diego by shouting at him, he'll just have to think of another way. He has no way of knowing what even caused that cup to launch, for all he knows it's some extension of Diego's powers that even the man himself isn't aware of, given his shock. Best not to poke the hornet's nest until he has a handle on it.

He tucks his hands into his pockets to try and signal that he's done being aggressive, and feels something in the pocket of his jacket. A piece of paper, folded up-- and then he remembers. The note Diego had requested from Patch's wallet is still in his pocket. It makes sense, that was less than two days ago for him, but it was so long ago for Diego that he's probably forgotten all about it. Five begins to plot. 

"Change your dressing, Diego," he says, his voice cold but his words kind. "If you get an infection it's your own fault. Clean that up before Elliot gets back."

Before Diego even has a chance to respond, Five is gone in a flash of blue light, leaving Diego alone in the kitchen with a miserable blanket of unresolved tension hanging over him, and a long streak of dark coffee staining the wall, dripping down into a puddle littered with porcelain shards.

Diego stares at the spot Five had just occupied as he disappears, blinking a few times as his gaze shifts down to the bloodied bandage on his stomach, then to the mess on the wall. He doesn’t clean it up. Instead, he leaves it for Elliot to stumble upon later and he’ll blame Five when he does. 

He’s in the bathroom cleaning out the wound and replacing the bandage when the door opens behind him and a soft pair of hands come to assist him. He stares at Lila in the mirror, watching her tend to him while Five’s words echo through his head and when her fingers suggestively brush over the waistband of his jeans, he hears what Five will say if he finds out, but he doesn’t stop her. 


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Five reappears, announcing he knows where their father will be tonight, Diego and Lila are sitting in Elliot's living room chatting softly. Luckily, Five doesn't seem to have it in him to start any shit with Lila as he passes Diego an invitation to a gala at the Mexican Consulate of Dallas that he’d snatched off his desk. Elliot tells them that the man who sent the invitation is part of the Majestic Twelve, a secret committee, but when he shows them a picture and Lila says she only counts 11, Diego and Five share a knowing look, and Diego forces himself to forget about their earlier encounter in the kitchen.

Lila invites herself along. Diego doesn’t say no when she presents a change of clothes for him and he sees a dress and a pair of red heels sitting on the bed beside them. She already knows most of the details and having an extra set of eyes wouldn’t the worst thing. He already knows Five will disagree, but he surprisingly doesn’t say anything about it as they sneak their way on to the Consulate property, ducking behind a car for a moment to discuss the plan. 

Diego leads the way, but he doesn’t notice that neither Five nor Lila follow him and instead stay hidden behind the car for a moment longer. 

“After you.” Lila says to Five with a cheeky smile, motioning towards the path that Diego went. She knows her presence is unwanted, but she can’t help adding fuel to the fire.

Five has been mulling over his plan for hours now. He knows Diego will be upset, but that's honestly nothing new. Diego has spent the last few days upset with Five, and at this point he's just accepted that it's going to be a part of their journey here in Texas. Five's best bet is to get Diego home, alone, _without_ Lila, and work on mending their relationship there once it's out of range of this woman. 

It isn't even like Five's mistrust is entirely placed on the fact that she's a woman in proximity to Diego. A large part of it is that he met her in an asylum and they still don't know _why_ she was institutionalized-- but an even larger part of it is that she followed them to the warehouse and seems so completely untroubled by their plot, and time travel in general. He can intuit that Diego assumes it's just because she was in the asylum that lends her to having an open mind, but Five knows better. Then again, he's always been smarter than Diego. 

Reaching out to grab Lila's arm when she makes a move to go ahead after Five doesn't take the lead, he leans in to whisper, "Find me in the party. Alone. I have something for you. You're not gonna like it, but you need to see it. It's about Diego." 

And then he slips past her to scoot on to the next car, leaving her to question what the hell he could even mean. Lila looks curiously at Five, his words leaving her lingering there for a moment longer, wondering what he could be up to, before she hikes up her dress and follows the two men as they sneak their way into the building. 

As Five immediately turns to head upstairs, Lila tries to follow, but Diego grabs her wrist before she can get too far. “Ditching me already?” He asks, an eyebrow arched at her and Lila looks back at the steps once more before she turns to Diego with a smile. Five’s words are still lingering in her mind, but she can spare a second to indulge Diego. They share a dance that Diego insists on leading and when he claims that he’s the man, Lila laughs at him, a hand sliding down his back to assert her dominance. Diego doesn’t back down. She has him wrapped around her finger, following her every move and as she spins him, pulling him back in so their chests are flush, he goes still. 

Then Diego sees _her_ from across the crowd of people, a face he’d recognize anywhere, and Diego is pulled to her like a moth drawn to a flame. He lets go of Lila’s hand, only distantly aware of the comment she makes to him as he’s pushing his way through the crowd to find the woman he last saw crumbling to the ground with their childhood home. 

Lila stands there alone for a moment, but doesn’t care to watch Diego approach the woman he’d spotted. Instead, she disappears up the steps where Five had gone, keeping an eye out for him.

Her heels barely make contact with the carpet of the second floor before Five is there in a flash of blue light, directly in front of her. He inhales deeply at the sight of her, going over his plan one more time. He knows it's unfair to her to crush this little honeymoon fantasy she's been building with Diego, but he knows it'll be _more_ unfair for Diego to lead her on only to leave her behind in the 60s when the time comes. In the end, this is a mercy. 

"Come on," he jerks his head to indicate she should follow, and he leads her into a parlor off to the side, closing the door behind him. Lila looks skeptical and a little nervous, but Five's eyes are uncharacteristically soft when he turns back to face her. "How much has Diego told you about his life before our arrival here?"

Lila narrows her eyes at Five, but she follows without question as Five leads them into an empty room and shuts the door behind her. Her arms come to fold across her chest, looking down at the boy who isn’t looking at her with his usual disgusted expression. Briefly, she wonders if he’s catching on, but his question says otherwise. 

“Nothing besides a handful of daddy issues,” she says, crossing the room to sit on the edge of nearby chair, well aware of how Five’s eyes follow her. “He wasn’t one to discuss personal details in group therapy.”

Five hums thoughtfully, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well-- there's something you should know. This morning, I found thisin my jacket," he pulls his hand out, holding that beat-up old folded paper, its creases well worn, its corners bent and smoothed, and the surface of the paper aged and grey. "Shortly before we landed here, Diego asked for me to get this for him. It belonged to a woman he was in love with-- I'd say, two months ago?"

He doesn't hold it out to her, he just holds it in his hand, as if taunting her to ask for it.

Lila looks curiously at the piece of paper Five is holding, hopping off the edge of the chair to cross the floor towards him again. She reaches her hand out, but she hesitates for a moment. 

She knows Diego had a life before this, probably a decent one with people that mattered more to him than her, but they’d gotten close to each other quickly and although her intentions hadn’t been right in the beginning, she couldn’t deny that she actually felt something for him now. Diego was an idiot, but he was also so sickeningly sweet that Lila couldn’t help it. The idea he'd been with another woman so recently, though--

“Give it here, then,” she finally says after a moment, stepping closer to snatch the note from Five’s hand.

Five hands it over without argument, letting her open the note. He'd read it himself-- a disgustingly cute exchange between two academy lovebirds, flirting with one another like it's going out of style. He's silent for a moment to let her read it, watching her eyes scanning over the page, her brows steadily furrowing more and more. 

"She died," Five tells her when he sees her eyes flick from the bottom of the page back up to the top to reread it. "Just a couple days before he met _you_ , actually. I just thought you should know."

Lila's eyes scan over the note, the handwriting she recognizes as Diego's exchanging sickeningly sweet words with another set of handwriting and she can practically hear his voice in her head saying those words, but to another girl instead of her. The jealousy that flashes through her is quick, easily concealed with nothing more than a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Or would be, if Five wasn't a master at reading facial expressions. Her gaze flickers up to Five as he starts speaking again. "Right, I know what you're trying to do here, and it won't work," she finally says, but she doesn't hand the note back to Five. Instead, she slips it down the front of her dress, tucking it into her bra for safekeeping, but she hasn't decided yet if she's going to give it Diego or not. 

Five's expression is almost sad as he reaches up to brush some hair off her cheek, unbothered by her assertion that she's unaffected. "You look so much like her, you know. I guess he has a type."  
  
His hand on her cheek makes her brows furrow and she slowly pulling back from him. "Really, there are better ways to get rid of me, kid," she says with a slight laugh as she perches on the edge of the chair again. "And Diego said _you_ were the mastermind of the family? I'm unimpressed."

That settles his suspicion then and there. He saw the micro expression before she could hide it, he'd been too carefully tracking her face for any sign of cracking under the pressure he'd put on her-- and pressure it was, despite her cavalier attitude, that much he could tell. He saw the twitch, the flex of her jaw. The thought that she could hide the truth from him was laughable, he could sniff out any hint of dishonesty-- he'd been _trained_ to, for fuck's sake. But he lets her have this moment, to think she's won one over him. He knows ultimately all it takes is one block pulled out of the tower to jeopardize its integrity. The rest will follow organically. 

"If I wanted to get rid of you I would have brought a _knife_ , not a note," he says, tucking his hands back into his pockets. Whatever she's hiding, he's going to figure it out. He doesn't trust her with his brother-- wouldn't even trust her with a _different_ brother, but _especially_ not Diego, who his own heart beats so desperately fondly for. If she has some motivation to hide her jealousy, then he knows she can't be trusted. It's vindicating, at least, to finally have a reason more than his own jealousy to have a bad feeling about the entire affair.

Lila holds his gaze, knowing that he's trying to intimidate her, but it doesn't work on her. It's going to take a whole lot more than a teenager in a schoolboy uniform to make her back down, so she just grins at him. "You know, you're cute when you're trying to be threatening," she muses, but before she can watch Five visibly react to her statement, she stands and heads back towards the door. She turns back to look at Five once she's there, one hand lingering on the doorknob, the other on her hip. "Was this all you needed? Because your brother was drooling over another girl down there and I'd hate for you to show her this same hostility."

Five's brows furrow. _Another_ girl? He hates the satisfaction she clearly feels at surprising him with this piece of information, and his lip curls slightly. "You can go," he waves a hand dismissively, and then disappears in a flash of blue light, unwilling to give her the last word. 

Where Diego is right now doesn't matter. He has to keep his eyes forward on the mission. They're actually here for a reason, not just his petty, potentially misguided attempts to drive Lila and Diego apart. Tracking the Majestic 12 is easy, and jumping into the closet in their room to listen in is even easier-- but when he's almost discovered he has no choice but to jump back out, putting himself directly into the path of one of those goddamn Swedes who've been following his family around. 

Which wouldn't have been a problem, if he hadn't been so fucking exhausted. He still hasn't really had a chance to rest, and even just a few jumps are enough to wind him-- so when the largest of the three gets the upperhand on him and he isn't able to teleport away, it starts going downhill quickly. He's knocked to the ground and stomped on, he feels a rib crack under the giant's shoe and he rolls to the side with a groan, his nose bleeding down his chin as he tries to get back to his feet, his powers crackling uselessly around his hands. He looks around wildly in search of a way out, some way to duck around the man, but when he tries he just gets a hand in his hair and brutal knee to the stomach that reminds him of how weak this body he's trapped in really is, as he's dropped to the floor once more.

Despite the fact that Diego can think of nothing other than Grace, who is very much alive and real with a southern drawl and a warm touch that has his heart aching in ways it’s never hurt before, he feels as though he’s gotten somewhere. Their father definitely is around and judging by Grace‘s unenthusiastic expression, ditching her to meet with the rest of his secret committee. 

Before Diego can even think to look, there’s a hand on his back and he turns around to see Lila. His eyes flicker back to Grace one last time, but as Lila’s hands slide around his hips, his mind is pulled back to her. “Meet me upstairs,” she whispers, her breath hot against his ear and her chest flush against his back. “Second door on the right.” 

He arches a brow at her and the smirk on her face. They’re here to figure out whatever it is his father is up to, but when she gives his ass a firm and reassuring grab, Diego doesn’t say no, just clears his throat and disappears up the steps. 

The sight he’s greeted to once he reaches the top step is one that takes him by surprise, but instantly has his stomach churning, watching Five get thrown around by a man twice his side. “Five?” He calls out, but he can’t take a single step forward before there’s a cord around his neck, choking him and pulling him backwards as two other men start attacking him. He only has time to throw one knife, one lousy throw that glides past the man and lodges itself into the wall. A brass-knuckled punch to his stomach leaves Diego gasping for air that he can’t catch, a sharp pain spreading from the wound in his side through the rest of his body.  
  
Lila appears at the top of the steps, her cheeky smile fading, frozen as the reality of the situation sets in. She sees Diego in one corner, trying to take two men alone and Five in the other, sparing with one and neither seem like they’re winning. Diego cries out for her and Lila locks eyes with him, but her mother’s words echo in her head - to protect Number Five at all costs. She’d led Diego up here to lay her claim on him and now she leaves him to handle himself as she heads down the hallway to help Five instead of the man she actually wants to help.

Five isn't even aware of Lila or Diego's presence when Lila ditches her shoes and comes charging down the hallway to throw herself on the man assaulting him. His ears are ringing and his head throbbing, and as he rolls up onto his feet, it's to the sight of Lila flipping a man twice her size onto his back. His brow furrows in confusion at the display that's far too competent to be handwaved away by her breathless 'you're welcome.' He can't waste time thinking about it, the giant is already staggering up to his feet-- so Five rushes him and shoves him out the window, right through the glass and down to the lawn two stories below. 

Through the window he sees Reginald waiting for a car with Grace on his arm, and he manages to gather enough strength together to teleport himself down to the ground level, staggering on the dismount before chasing Reginald down in a desperate attempt to get him to see reason, shouting after him in ancient greek to get his attention. It doesn't work, which stings more than the ache in his ribs.

Lila watches him reappear on the ground and then looks up to where Diego is still struggling with the other two, and they share a brief moment of eye contact before she hurries down the stairs and leaves him there for a second time, slipping her shoes back on as she goes.

Diego can’t wrap his head around why Lila’s helping _Five_ and not him, but now isn’t the time to mull it over, especially when another punch to the gut pulls him back to reality. Diego smashes his head back against the face of the man holding him, and it does enough make the guy stumble long enough for Diego to turn his head and catch Lila’s eye before she disappears down the stairs, leaving him alone. 

Diego uses his anger to his advantage, effectively knocking out the smaller man and the fight that ensues with the last man standing is dirty, full of broken glass and brass knuckles, but when Diego bashes his knee into his face and watches him collapse, he takes a moment to catch his breath, his hand clamping over his side. He glances out the window, catching sight of his father and Grace and he pushes away the pain and the anger and the confusion. 

He appears outside just as their car is pulling away, coming to stand next to Five and he frowns as he straightens out his jacket. “Shit,” he mumbles. “We lost him. Again.”

"Fuck!" Five shouts, limping around in a pained little circle and waving his hand after the car. He supposes he could teleport inside, but at this point he's concussed, exhausted, and his accuracy is severely thrown. He'd only be thrown out of the car or worse apprehended, and so he just watches it drive away helplessly. He looks up to share a weary look with Diego, and reaches up to brush a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth without thinking, the delirium making him forget himself for a moment. "You look like shit," he mutters, but his voice is soft. Diego’s eyes snap back towards Five when he feels a hand on his cheek, almost pulling back before he realizes it’s just Five and his lips part for his thumb, staring at his brother with eyes bordering on tender before Lila breaks the silence and he snaps out of it. 

"We've got to go," she says urgently, as people start filing out of the party. "Someone's bound to find those bodies and we don't wanna be here when they do."

That flares anger inside Five and he rounds to look at her, eyes wild. "What the hell do you mean _we?"_

"You know what the word _we_ means--" Lila shakes her head in confusion. 

"What I _know_ is that there's no explanation for the way I saw you fighting up there," Five says furiously, grinning like a dog baring its teeth. He knows he should stop, he knows Diego is going to step in and prevent him from snapping at her, but he's injured on top of tired on top of drained and he's hit his limit more than once. "Or the amount of _questions_ you ask-- or the way you adjust to fucked up information _way_ too quickly. What I _know_ is that I don't trust you with my _family."_

Diego clears his throat quietly to interject, but the two of them have started an argument that Diego doesn’t quite know to side with. On one hand, Lila’s right, they _do_ need to get the hell out of here before somebody finds the men upstairs, but on the other hand, he’s mad at Lila for ditching him for Five. Either way, he knows they shouldn’t be having this argument _here_ , but he speaks without thinking, as he always does. 

“Yeah, what the hell _was_ that back there?” He asks, turning to look at her. He doesn’t want them both to gang up on her, but Diego needs some answers. “I begged you for help, Lila, and you left me up there with them.”

Five is more than a little startled that Diego is taking his side, for what feels like the first time in years, despite the fact that Five has only been around Diego for a little more than a week at this point. It's exhausting, thinking about how much he's been through in the last ten days, and more exhausting still when he realizes how much of that time has been spent arguing with Diego. His entire chest feels warm and cottony when his brother finally _agrees_ with him for once. 

"He's a _kid_ , Diego," she tries to deflect, gesturing to Five with both hands. "And he was getting the tar beat out of him, I thought you could handle yourself. I was right, wasn't I?"

"Don't you _dare_ ," Five takes a step towards her, temper flaring. "You don't _deserve_ to be with my brother if you aren't even going to fight to protect him. Stay away from Diego, stay away from _me_ \-- you know what? Just stay away from my family or I'll _kill_ you." 

Diego’s eyes widen slightly when he hears Five threaten her, far more than he’d ever threatened over the past few days and even though he agrees with Five’s previous points, this crosses a line. “Jesus, Five...” he grumbles, throwing him a look that silently tells him to knock it off before he turns back to Lila. “He doesn’t mean that. We just... we have some questions, alright?” 

He watches the expression shift on Lila’s face, from looking innocent to looking downright upset and he quirks a brow at her, not thinking that those words would upset her that much. “He’s _trying_ to sabotage us,” she says suddenly, but she doesn’t look at Diego, her eyes are locked on Five as she reaches down the front of her dress, pulling out the note. 

Diego barely needs to catch a glimpse of it before he already knows what it is and it hits him in the gut harder than those brass knuckles had. He snatches it from Lila’s hands, accidentally crumpling it in the process as his fist closes protectively around it. “Where the _hell_ did you get this?”

Shit. _Shit_. 

Five looks between them, his jaw flexing hard at the corners as he clenches his teeth. Giving her the note was a mistake, it was stupid, but he can't go back now. He'd need to do the math, going back in time is still something he's _clearly_ not very good at, and he'd have to contest with his slightly younger self-- it would be too much effort. He's sure he can salvage this. 

"I gave it to her," he says, rather than attempt hiding or lying. There's no point, and getting sniffed out would just make things worse. "I found it in my pocket this morning."

Diego is still staring at Lila for an answer when Five speaks up again and he whips around to face him, searching his face for any sign that he was lying, but Diego could tell that he wasn’t. His hand curls tighter around the note, the other forming a fist at his side as the anger courses through him. “Why the fuck would give this to her?” He asks with venom dripping off his tongue. “How did you even _get_ it?” 

Only then, does he remember sitting at the bar in their living room with Five, sharing a bottle of whiskey and stories about their partners, and he’d told about the note that Patch carried in her wallet. He’d opened up to Five, put his mended heart out on his sleeve, and with cold hands, Five had smashed it all over again and gave a handful of the pieces to Lila. 

He swallows hard, taking in a deep breath through his nose as he forces himself to step back from his brother. “You’re a real asshole, Five, you know that?”

"She's a _snake_ , Diego," Five says, pointing a finger viciously in Lila's direction. "And you were getting in too deep. You told me you weren't going to get in too deep and you _lied_ to me. You _knew_ I didn't trust her, and after that display up there you don't trust her either. Don't let this cloud your judgement, Diego, you _know_ what you saw. She left you to _die_ up there."

"Sure, he can say that now, but he gave that to me well before then," Lila says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"I _gave it to you_ because I care about my brother more than I care about you," Five rounds on her, spitting like a cat. "And he's already proven that he doesn't give a shit about what I have to say despite being older and wiser than him-- so _yes_ , I was out of options. If you were a normal person you would have confronted your lover about it instead of holding onto it to use like a fucking weapon at the right moment-- but _I'M_ the asshole?"

“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up. Both of you!” Diego shouts after a moment of listening to both Lila and Five try to pit him against the other. He’s too exhausted and annoyed and heartsick to deal with this right now. The wound in his side is killing him, he can taste blood in his mouth, and his head is pounding from the combination of getting his ass handed to him and seeing Grace. 

He slips the note into his pocket, not wanting it to fall back into either Five or Lila’s hands, even though they’d both already read it. They were his memories to relive, not theirs. “Real great time to bring this up when there are three nearly-dead men upstairs.” He says to Lila, but he lowers his voice as a couple passes them, throwing an odd look their way and Diego lets out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, we need to get out of here. Now.”

"You're joking," Five turns to his brother with a look of disgust. "You _still_ want her to come along?"

Lila's eyes flick between the two of them, panic welling up in her. Things are getting out of hand, she's going to have to pull Diego back in if she wants things to go her way, and right now the best way she can think to do that is to get Diego to come after _her_. She shakes her head and takes a step back, half turning away from them. 

"You know what? Screw this. Your brother's a friggin' psycho, Diego. I've had enough of this-- if you decide you want an actual adult in your life instead of your shitheel little brother, you let me know. I'm out of here."

She turns to trot away on her heels, and when Diego takes a conflicted half step towards her, Five throws a hand up in front of his chest. "Let her go, Diego," he says in a firm voice.

“Lila—“ Diego begins to call after her, but Five is suddenly in front of him, one small hand on his chest and even though it would be so easy to push Five aside and go after her, he remains where he is, his eyes flickering between her retreating figure and his brother standing before him. 

He’s in a game of tug of war between the two of them, feeling pulled in either direction when his feet want to stay firmly planted in the middle, but just because he remains with Five, doesn’t mean he’s happy with him. 

He pushes his hand off his chest, glaring daggers down at him. The note in his pocket feels like a weight that’s dragging him down. “Why did you give it to her?” He asks, and although his blood is running hot and all he sees is red, his just sounds tired. “You had it all this time and you couldn’t have just given it to _me?”_

"I only found it this morning, I wasn't lying about that," Five says. Hearing Diego go a little quieter gives him the strength to steel himself against the kneejerk urge to flare up as well, and with so many people milling around in the parking lot he has to keep his voice down anyway. "I was _pissed_ at you this morning. You've been making stupid choices and going back on your word, and I couldn't trust you to make the right call when it had to be made."

He sighs, his shoulders drooping slightly. "And I thought it would hurt you less if she left _you_ , than if you had to make the call to leave her when it was time to go home. I didn't expect her to whip it out like a _knife_. I would have preferred a knife, honestly. I at least know what to _do_ with a knife."  
  
Diego didn’t think sleeping with Lila was necessarily a stupid choice. Blind, maybe, but he didn’t regret it. Five hadn’t even told him that he was looking for Vanya that night, so how he was he supposed to know? 

“You could have just said that,” Diego mumbles, still glaring down at Five, but his expression softens when he sees Five’s shoulders slump. “You could have done anything else. You didn’t have to drag Patch into this.” Her name feels foreign on his tongue, a word he hasn’t said in months, and it suddenly leaves him feeling nauseous because maybe he _did_ move on too quickly.

"I _did_ say that," Five hisses furiously, but he closes his eyes and raises his hands up to exhale the anger back out through his nose. If he gets pissed off, Diego will get pissed off, and they'll just keep going around and around this fucked up carousel. Instead he reaches up to finally wipe the blood off his nose and chin with the heel of his hand, smearing it across his cheek in a red line. His head is throbbing, his side is aching, and he knows Diego isn't faring much better. They both look like shit. 

Five is absolutely exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally. The toll of constantly fighting with Diego for days in a row has taken a serious toll on him, the constant yo-yo-ing of his feelings back and forth between whether he should confess to the man or leave him to make different choices, the contrast between his selfishness and his compassionate love-- all of it has left him so tired that he doesn't have it in him to lie anymore. 

"Diego-- listen," he turns back to face his brother, his heart pounding. He just has to rip off the bandaid. Tell him everything, tell him the truth. It'll all make so much sense if Diego knew where Five was coming from. "You wanna know why I gave her the note? I wasn't lying, I _don't_ trust her, and I think she's hiding something, but I didn't like her even before I had real suspicions. I just--"

"Hey, kid!" someone shouts from across the parking lot, and Five looks up to see one of the consulate security staff jogging over towards them. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Shit--" Five grabs Diego by the wrist and plunges into the bushes with him, warping them out a second later. He doesn't really have the juice to teleport even himself, much less another person, and he does it without thinking and teleports them all the way across the city to Elliot's apartment. The trip is unpleasant and leaves Diego feeling shaky, but Five is much worse for wear, collapsing to his hands and knees the instant their shoes touch the ground. Woozy and delirious, he tries to stagger back up to his feet, only for his arms to give out and he collapses onto his side in a heap. Days of over exertion without proper food or rest have finally caught up to him, and he finds himself as his physical limit.

Diego was hanging off of every word Five has to say, even though he already knew that Five didn’t trust her, awaiting a real explanation. He doesn’t get one, not before someone is shouting at them and before Diego can even think to reply, he blinks and his entire body feels like it’s being pulled from every direction and when he opens his eyes again, he’s standing in Elliot’s living room. 

“Shit,” he mumbles as he stumbles forward slightly, but he catches himself on the edge of the couch, keeping himself upright as he gets his bearings back and as the room slowly stops spinning around him, he turns his head down to look at Five crumpled up on the floor. “Hey,” he says, crouching down next to him in an instant, one hand coming to rest on Five’s shoulder, the other cupping his cheek as he shoves away his own pain to help his brother, who clearly looks like he needs it. “Five, you alright?”

Five groans, trying to sit up, but his arms are too weak to support his weight. Now that the adrenaline has passed, it's left his body feeling like it's made of tissue paper, flimsy and insubstantial. "Tired," he mumbles, relenting to laying back on the cool floor. He can feel it seep through the layers of his uniform, a soothing balm on his burning body. "Just... gonna sleep here."

Right there in the middle of Elliot's living room floor. He's slept in worse locations.

Diego watches Five struggle to support himself, his hand sliding a little further down his back, but the other man has already accepted defeat and sinks lower into the floor. “No, hey, c’mon,” he says, dropping his hand from Five’s face. 

He hesitates for a moment before sliding his hands underneath his body, carefully lifting him off the ground. “Let’s get you somewhere else,” he murmurs. Even though Five doesn’t weigh very much, his weight aches in every inch of Diego’s body, but he settles him against his chest without a complaint, carefully carrying him towards the bedroom. He kicks open the door and slips inside, setting Five down on the mattress. He deserves a soft place to sleep and Diego doubts Lila will be back tonight, so he accepts the fact that he’ll take the couch. 

Five’s face is still smeared with blood, but Diego is more concerned about any injuries that might be hiding underneath his clothes. “Are you hurt?” He asks, but his hands are already tugging at Five’s sweater vest, pulling the shirt untucked from his shorts, checking for anything that he can tend to.

Five doesn't resist Diego's undressing, he lets him pull off his vest and jacket, ragdolling tiredly until Diego has his shirt open, and Diego can see the bruising spreading across his ribs and chest, mottled across the still-stitched up pucker from where Five had been shot just _days_ ago, reminding Diego of the fact yet again that almost no time at all had passed between the last harrowing adventure their family had been on and this one. It's no wonder he collapsed. "Yeah," Five says finally, his voice strained. Having the layers of clothing off makes him feel less feverish, less nauseous. "But it's not life threatening. I'll let you know if I feel my lungs collapsing."

Diego can’t hold back his frown when he sees the bruises covering Five’s chest and it only gets worse as he gets him out of most of his clothes, leaving him there in just his shorts and his unbuttoned shirt. He’s sure his own body looks similar, but he’s only concerned about Five right now. Five’s right, it’s not life threatening, and there’s not much he can do for bruises. 

“You want some ice or something?” He asks, his gaze flickering between the bruises and Five’s face, having forgotten that minutes before, they’d been in the middle of an argument. That was their new normal, though - argue and then immediately pretend nothing happened.

"No," Five mumbles, already halfway falling asleep. He feels the bed dip, and cracks his eyes open to see Diego moving off the bed, presumably to leave him there to sleep. Delirious with exhaustion and strained emotion, the idea of Diego leaving him right now feels _instinctively_ wrong. He doesn't think, he just reaches out and grabs Diego by the wrist. 

"Don't go," he croaks. "You're hurt too. Sleep here."

Diego pauses when he feels a hand on his wrist, looking down at Five’s hand, then at his face. He shouldn’t stay, he tries to tell himself. He should give Five his space, he should clean himself up, he should look for Lila, but the hand on his arm is grounding, and Diego finds that he can’t pull away from it. 

“I’m just— lemme clean up your face, alright?” he offers, slowly pulling his arm out of Five’s grasp. “I’ll be right back.” He means it, slipping out of the room just to grab a damp washcloth from the bathroom, returning a moment later and reclaiming his spot on the bed. 

One hand gently cups Five’s chin, turning his head towards him as he wipes the blood from his face, being mindful of a small cut on his cheek. He uses the corner the cloth to wipe a drop of blood from the side of Five’s mouth, his eyes watching his lips for a moment before he pulls back, swallowing the lump that had built up in his throat.

Five watches Diego in kind, his eyes open just a slit and his mouth slightly parted to give him the room to work. All at once he's possessed with the urge to kiss him, and if he wasn't so weak he might have actually acted on it. He has so many things he wants to say, so many words that ache to pass through his lips, things he wants to tell Diego, secrets he wants to share and truths he wants to unburden himself of-- but he's too exhausted to articulate any of them. 

Instead, he just reaches up to take Diego by the hand and wheezes out a soft, weary, "I'm sorry."

Diego is about to ask why he’s sorry, but he stops himself. An apology from Five comes few and far between and Diego knows the best option is to just accept it, and know that Five is being sincere. It isn’t worth it to nitpick an apology for everything he thinks he’s owed. It would just start another argument that Diego is too tired to have. “Don’t worry about it,” he responds quietly, giving Five’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

He throws the washcloth on the nightstand, standing up for a moment to remove his jacket, then his tie and the button-up shirt, tossing them into a pile with Five’s clothes. He kicks off his shoes and settles back on the bed, next to Five. They hadn’t shared a bed since they were children, but Diego feels like he’s thirteen again as he slowly drapes an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

Five sinks into the warmth like he's never felt comfort before in his life, sagging against his brother's side with a sigh. His eyes flutter closed and he finally lets unconsciousness pull him under, drifting off to sleep. 


	11. Chapter 11

The pain Five wakes up with takes his breath away for a moment, and when he opens his eyes, he realizes it's because he's laying on his bad side. He probably has been for a while, considering the fact that Diego's arm is looped over his waist, and he's curled entirely into his chest like a cat. The pain sinks into his awareness and seizes up his body, but he withstands it for a few seconds to stay wrapped in Diego's embrace, indulgent in the touch. It's been so, so many years since he felt his husband's arms around him--

Not his husband, he reminds himself. The events of last night come flooding back. The fight, the argument with Lila, how she'd run away. The look of betrayal on Diego's face when he realized Five tried to sabotage them. Guilt floods him worse than the pain, and in an instant he teleports to the other side of the room. Diego's arm lands heavily on the mattress, but he doesn't stir, leaving Five to button his shirt closed and start putting on his uniform.  
  
He has a terrible decision to make. He doesn't trust Lila for a second, but he knows in his soul that Diego felt something for her. Whether it was trauma bonding like Five had said or not, it was real. And he stuck his stupid nose into it and ruined it, on purpose. And why? He has reasons _now_ to suspect Lila isn't who she says she is, but he hadn't at the time. It was petty jealousy, childish and immature and selfish, and it makes him feel like a child to think about it now. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she just knew how to handle herself in a fight. Five had no _real_ reason to assume she had sinister purposes just because she knew some self defense techniques. It just means she had good parents who wanted to teach her how to keep herself safe, surely... surely. 

The very least Diego deserves from Five is closure. If Five is right about Lila, he'd better find proof. And if he's wrong... he'll eat crow when the time comes. 

Diego murmurs something as he starts to rouse, but Five puts a hand on his shoulder when he starts to roll over and wake up. "Sleep in," he whispers, uncharacteristically tender as he brushes hair back away from Diego's sleepy face. "I have something I need to do."  
  
Diego stirs slightly when the warmth leaves his side, but doesn’t wake up until he feels a faint touch on his cheek. He opens his eyes and can barely make out a blurry figure standing before him, but as he reaches up to rub the sleep from his eyes, they’re gone, leaving Diego in the bedroom alone. 

As he props himself up on his elbows, the memories of the night before come rushing back - of longing stares, physical fights, arguments that left everyone with a bitter taste in their mouths, and questions that were still unanswered. His entire body aches, and even though he’d just been told to sleep in, he hauls himself out of the bed anyway. He’d spent the night with Five and the other man was gone before he’d even woken up. Diego didn’t need to linger in a bed that smelled like both him _and_ Lila, so he forces himself up, thinking maybe he could do something productive for once.

Five unfortunately doesn't even know where to start, really. He teleports to the roof of the building to collect his thoughts, considering his options. He could go back to the consulate to look for clues of where she might have gone, he's always been fairly adept at tracking since he learned how to follow food sources in the wastes, and they were only supplemented by the Commission's training. Barring that he could just start looking through phone books and knocking on doors-- and then he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. 

He glances up to see Lila herself, crouching down low on the roof of the building directly beside the one he's standing on. Immediately, all thoughts Five had about possibly being wrong about Lila get eradicated at once as suspicion comes rearing its head once more. In a flash he jumps over to the building across from him, where Lila is lying belly-down in the gravel, attempting to hide from him, and he squats down beside her with a snarky grin. 

"Fancy seeing you here," he says, as she lurches up to her feet and makes a mad dash for the fire escape. Five just sighs as he watches her go, rolling his neck and shoulders. He could teleport right after her, but now that his suspicions are in the process of being confirmed, he'd rather see where she runs off to, given the chance.  
  
He lets her get a decent distance away before he starts following her, deciding to do so on foot since she knows the telltale fizzing thump of his powers. He slips carefully into alleys and behind cars, weaving through the city until he finds himself in some sort of broken-down warehouse district. Before he runs in guns blazing, he takes a moment to steel himself in the parking lot. Maybe against all odds, this is still somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe Lila is just a squatter-- it's not like she had anywhere else to go after leaving the asylum and then Diego in that order. Maybe Five's jumping the gun here. 

Taking a deep breath, he slips soundlessly into the warehouse, darting up a flight of metal stairs to crouch on a darkened balcony as he watches Lila slink deeper into the main floor of the factory, between the equipment. She sighs and leans back against a table, crossing her arms over her chest. "He saw me, mum," she says, and for one moment Five thinks she's addressing him somehow, before the voice of the Handler herself filters into his ears, and runs his blood cold. 

"That's fine. I need to see him anyway," she replies as she steps out onto the main floor. "Did he follow you?"

Or _maybe_ Five had been right all along. He should know better by now than to ignore his instincts. His blood boils as he puts the scene together, and realizes just how long Lila had been manipulating his brother. He warps down to the main floor directly between them with a mean sneer. "Oh, he did," he replies on Lila's behalf, and knocks her feet out from under her.  
  
It isn't a long fight, but it is a good one. She holds her own impressively, but Five incapacitates her quickly. Age and wisdom and decades more survival training than her are nothing to scoff at. He has her neck under his shoe, fury lighting his blood on fire, as he thinks of what she did to Diego. How long she'd been using him, lying to him-- to them both-- she _slept_ with him, for fuck's sake. 

But the Handler steps in to make him a deal, and it's one that gets his attention. Rearrange management at the Commission to put her in charge, and she'll give him a briefcase and a free pass back home with his family-- with the apocalypse officially averted. It's a tough pill to swallow, he's _never_ trusted the Handler, but the offer is a tempting one. It's a good last resort, and he tells her as much before warping back out to find where his family has gotten off to-- and to deliver the bad news to Diego.

Diego had almost expected to find Lila there the next day, but when he comes out of the living room after scraping dried blood off his face, he finds only Luther sitting at the kitchen table, eating the largest portion of eggs he’d ever seen. Five isn’t anywhere to be seen either, and words that Diego hadn’t remembered hearing suddenly echo in his mind, that Five had something he needed to do. Diego just hopes it’s important, because it leaves him and Luther with the task of finding the rest of their siblings. 

Luther brings Vanya to Elliot’s and Diego has a harder time tracking down Allison, but it’s rewarded when Klaus is already with her. They’re both drunk out of their minds, but they’re happy to see him, and Diego is over the moon to see them, more pieces of his shattered heart slowly being added back to the rattling mess inside his chest. 

He tells them everything that he and Five have uncovered so far, which honestly isn’t much, but Diego still believes it revolves around Kennedy. Vanya makes an interesting point, the voice of reason that Five normally is in these conversations. Maybe it was all of their faults for messing with major events, and the thought sparks an argument between all five of them that Diego has to put a stop to. They need to find dad and talk with him before the apocalypse comes. 

Luther declares he wants no part of this, but Diego follows him, tries to talk some sense into him, and as they walking through an alley, a car pulls up in front of them. Diego immediately reaches for a knife, but when the oldest, frailest man that he’s ever seen steps out and hands Diego a letter, he hesitantly takes it, waiting until the car is gone before he opens it.   
  
They’re invited to a light supper hosted by their father tomorrow night. Diego doesn’t question how he found them, or how all of their siblings ended up with an equal invitation. He just knows that this might be their one opportunity to talk to dad and they need to go. He spends the night hunched over everything they have so far, trying to figure out just exactly what he wants to say to Reginald, knowing he needs to shove aside his childhood trauma and talk to his father like an adult. If only it were as easy as it sounds. 

He arrives at the address listed on the invitation alone, but he stops the closing elevator door with a hand, forcing it back open to reveal Five standing there. He looks at him for a moment, the first time he’s seen him in over a day, and slips in next to him. He wants to say something to him, to ask him where he’s been, but Allison suddenly stumbles in, followed by the rest of their family, and he and Five are forced to opposite ends of the elevator as they squeeze inside and all he can do is throw another glance his way. 

They’re all nervous as they step off the elevator to the tiki lounge room, and while Klaus’ nervousness expresses itself as poorly-timed jokes and Luther’s as stomach issues, Diego’s is all sharp-tongued, short anger. Little things are already setting him off, a broken conch shell on the opposite wall evidence of that, and their father hasn’t even shown up yet. 

When Reginald finally bursts through the swinging doors, carrying himself with the same confidence and arrogance as he always had, a notebook tucked under his arm, Diego is frozen for a moment. The wound in his side aches all the way down to his bones as he’s face to face with the man who not only stabbed him, but made his childhood a living hell.  
  
He accuses them all of things that mainly he and Five had done - broken into his lab, stalked him, crashed the event at the consulate - but he doesn’t take credit for it. He can’t even find any words to say when asks who they are, instead he’s left to look around the table at the rest of their siblings, who are equally as silent and unsure.

One by one his father takes the opportunity to dress them all down-- and more unfortunately, one by one Five's siblings take the opportunity to humiliate themselves. The only one who acts with grace or dignity is Vanya, but even that goes out the window when she explodes the fancy fruit basket in the middle of the table and sprays every one of them with chunks of fruit. 

But the worst of it comes when Reginald lays into Diego in front of all of them. Five's heart wrenches at the look on Diego's face, and worse still when he hears his brother stammer for the first time in years, reduced easily to a little boy in the face of the man who's done his family so much harm. Five desperately wants to speak, wants to step in for Diego, but he gets the sense that out of everyone in the family, Reginald respects _his_ presence the most, and if it's a matter of Diego's feelings or the safety of the entire planet, Five unfortunately has to put the rest of the human race first. Diego’s never felt so small in his life, years of work building up his tough-guy facade crumbling in front of everyone, just because their father had read him like an open book. It hurts worse that nobody said anything - they all sat there, hanging their heads while Diego was reduced to tears at the dinner table. 

Five had assumed one of their siblings will say something in Diego's defense. Fury simmers in his stomach when they don't. 

But his silence is rewarded when Reginald invites him to a private conversation after he declared that he'd seen quite enough of them. Or at least, that's what he thinks, until it ultimately proves fruitless when their father gives him the most pointless advice of time traveling by a few fucking _seconds_. Thanks, dad. 

When he returns to the dining room to see the rest of his family cleaning up and getting ready to leave, Five knows he has to see to Diego. It would ache in him not to. He's over by the bar with Klaus, but Klaus seems so drunk he's practically comatose, so he steps up to his brothers with a grim expression. He knows he has to tell Diego what he learned about Lila, and the sooner he tells him the better. If Diego finds out he knew this information and just kept it to himself, it'd be so much worse. 

"Diego, can I have a word?" he asks, glancing towards Klaus. " _Alone?"_

Diego wants to get out of here and clear his head, maybe throw his knives until his arms ache, or find Lila and press her into the closest mattress, or steal one of these top-shelf bottles of bourbon and drink until he pukes, _anything_ to distract him from the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to be around his family, but Klaus is leaning on the beside him, moaning about how violated he feels and he doesn’t even get a chance to tell him to shut up before Five is approaching them. 

Diego scoffs, not even turning to look at Five. “No,” he says, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth and he knows he’ll stutter again. He doesn’t elaborate, just pushes his way past both Five and Klaus to head back towards the elevator.

Five sighs and teleports in front of Diego, putting his hands up to stop him. They come into contact with his chest, not that Five could ever come close to being strong enough to stop Diego-- but he has to hope his brother won't just knock him down to barrel past him. He has to hope that there's some shred left inside Diego that will extend an ear to Five if he's earnest enough. He knows full well he screwed up last night, but he'd done his due diligence to try and make up for it, damn it.

"It's _important_ , Diego," he says firmly. "You _need_ to listen to me. It's about Lila."

Diego doesn’t try to hide his obvious frustration when Five appears in front of him, but he’s not prepared to feel his hands on his chest. The touch makes him take a step back, valuing his personal space right now. That, and he doesn’t trust himself not to physically push Five away from him. 

“ _Don’t,”_ he says, his voice low, pointing a finger at Five. He doesn’t want to hear more about how Five doesn’t trust Lila right now. He’s had a shit night and he just wants to be alone. “I’m not in the mood.”

"Diego--" Five gives a frustrated noise. He glances past his brother, where the rest of the family is openly staring at them, and has to quickly weigh his options. He could let Diego go, holding onto this information that he _knows_ will piss him off if he doesn't share as soon as he can, or he can blurt it out in front of their entire family and risk making Diego feel vulnerable, _or_ he could grab him and teleport him somewhere privately and risk sending his already agitated brother swinging. It doesn't seem like there's any option that will have them both coming out of this uninjured. 

His best bet is to just plow forward and deal with the consequences after. "It doesn't really _matter_ if you're not in the mood," he mutters, bringing his voice down at least so the rest of their brothers and sisters won't overhear. "You _need_ to listen to me. Lila isn't--"

Diego isn't listening. He can't hear a word he's saying over the rushing of his own blood in his ears. He just sees his lips moving and he's sure Five is either berating him or giving him information he doesn't want to know, but as Five leans in closer, Diego doesn't think before a hand comes up to push at Five's chest hard, his palm hitting Five's sternum with a sharp thud. "Fuck off!" He says, practically spitting the words at Five as the other man stumbles back. 

He's only distantly aware that they're being watched, each of their siblings getting a free ticket to a fight they don't want to see. He hears Luther start to say something, but Diego doesn't want to stick around to hear what it is, not when his family is coming to defend Five, but couldn't say a single thing to defend him ten minutes earlier.

Five nearly topples over, hissing air through his teeth when the shove ignites the pain in his ribs. He looks up with an expression mixed between betrayal and anger. He doesn't even know what he's angry at anymore. He's not angry at Diego exactly, he's not angry at their father completely, he's just angry in general. Angry that they're having to fight this fight a second time, angry that he can't do more to save his family. The Handler's deal comes back to the forefront of his mind-- possibly the only option, at this point. He'd so hoped their father would have something to offer so he wouldn't have to stoop to making a deal with the devil, but he doesn't have any other ideas. He's angry at how fucking _helpless_ he is, how impossible it feels to constantly try to herd and protect his family. 

And he's angry at Lila. He's so angry he could spit like a snake, but he's powerless to do anything about that, too. Not if Diego won't even listen to him. On some level he understands, Diego has fought so hard to keep himself from being victimized, and so to think that Lila had done something like that to him, to even consider the idea that he'd _"let"_ himself fall into that trap again, as if the Handler hadn't hand-crafted the entire event to hurt him-- it's no wonder he's too upset to listen.

The only thing Five can do right now is give this poor, wounded man who he loves so dearly some room to breathe, to process, and to calm down before he gives him the news. He'll tell him tomorrow. 

"Right. Sorry I bothered," he mutters, and vanishes in a flash of blue light, leaving Diego standing there with the weight of all his siblings staring at his back.

Diego regrets it the second he sees the betrayed look on Five's face, but the other man is gone before he can do anything. That familiar feeling starts to creep its way back up his throat, burning from the very bottom of his chest, pricking behind his eyes, but he won't let himself cry again. At least not in front of everybody. He can feel their eyes drilling holes into his back and it'd be less painful if all just shot at him instead. 

His hands clench and unclench into fists as he slowly turns around to face them. He knows he should just walk out, he knows he won't find satisfaction in blowing up at them, but he can't help it. He feels angry and vulnerable and raw and he needs to get all these pent-up emotions out somehow. "Thanks for having my back tonight," he says sarcastically, the words bitter on his tongue. "Some family we all are." 

He forces himself to leave after that, heading straight to the elevator and praying that nobody follows him. It's Vanya who stops the doors before they close, stepping in the enclosed space with him, but still a respectable distance away. She asks him if he's okay and Diego doesn't reply. He doesn't need to, when they both know the answer.

Things only get worse for him from there when he and Luther return to their base of operations and find Elliot has been killed, with a message left for them on the ground floor in his blood-- as if they needed more blood, more guilt on their hands. As if they haven't been through enough. Having to pull instruments from Elliot's body and lay him down to rest wrapped in a sheet is just the icing on the shit cake that Diego's entire stay in the 60's has been. 

Unaware of Elliot's demise, Five returns to the Handler to begrudgingly take her up on her offer, and is sent to 1982 to make good on his promise to kill the board of directors in exchange for a free ride home with his family, back to 2019 where they belong. If all goes well, they'll be back home by this time tomorrow. 

That's what he tells himself as he takes a fire axe off the wall and lets himself into the room to rain hell upon the unsuspecting board. He's doing this for his family. _Everything_ he does is for his family. As blood runs down his face and dyes his skin, he reminds himself that this is for his family. For taking them home. It's for bringing Allison back to her daughter, for giving Luther purpose again. It's for getting Klaus clean and giving Vanya her memories. It's for Diego. Everything he does is for Diego. 

Five has been so stupid, he realizes as he buries the head of his axe into the neck of one of the board members, and pauses for a sip of water. He's been spending so much time fighting with Diego, fighting with _himself_ about Diego, trying to give his brother options. He wants to give him room, but if Five had confessed everything back at the house like he wanted to, Diego could have missed all of this unpleasantness with Lila. He doesn't know if Diego would even still _want_ him anymore after everything-- but he owes Diego his honesty. He's been lying to him for too long.  
  
He remembers the park, the kiss that they shared that night he was forced to unwrite to attempt and thwart an apocalypse he ultimately failed to prevent, anyway. Where they would have been by now if he'd just gone forward from there, if he hadn't gone back. Would they be together? Would they be happy? He cleaves another head from the body of someone whose name he'll never know, and as he's sprayed with blood he wonders why he'd made the decision that he didn't deserve happiness anymore. At what point in his own story had he decided that happiness and success had to be mutually exclusive? 

If Diego told him no, he would respect it. But if he doesn't even give Diego the chance to say yes, he'll never be able to stop thinking about the what-ifs. Maybe Diego doesn't need to know about Lila at all, maybe it would be enough for him to know how deeply he's loved.


	12. Chapter 12

Sitting in Elliot's living room without the eccentric man and his various jell-o dishes makes the apartment feel cold and empty. His body sits by the door downstairs, waiting to be properly put to the rest, and Diego's already committed to burying him, just as soon as he finds the energy to get up. He wants to get out of here, to go back home to a life of solitude, of boiler-room living, of patrolling city streets, but he's stuck and the apocalypse hangs over his head like a storm cloud. 

He's cooled down since last night, the anger he initially felt now settling into the pit of stomach as a knot of embarrassment for how he acted. He shouldn't have been so cocky with their father, and he definitely shouldn't have shoved Five. He hadn't been thinking straight, but that was always his excuse. It became hard to believe these days. 

There's a quiet thump from downstairs and Diego sits up a little straighter, not quite sure if he's ready to face Five, but he doesn't have a choice as the other man reaches the top of the steps and Diego sees that he's absolutely _drenched_ in blood, clutching a briefcase in one hand. "Jesus, Five..." He murmurs under his breath, pushing himself to his feet and takes a few steps forward, but he reconsiders after a moment, leaving a decent amount of space between them. "What the hell happened to you?"  
  
"It's a long story," Five says wearily, clutching the briefcase in his hand that he's been given 90 _fucking_ minutes with. He should have known better than to trust the Handler. He _did_ know, which is the part that galls him-- he did know and he still fell for it. Not like he had any other options. He coughs as the taste of blood hits the back of his throat, and he leaves sticky footprints behind him on the linoleum as he staggers deeper into the space. "Where are the others?"  
  
Diego's eyes flicker from Five's face, then down to the briefcase and back again. He'd hoped for a little more of an explanation than that, but with Five, he shouldn't expect anything else. He finally moves forward, close enough to get a better look at the other man. He's swaying slightly, but Diego can't tell if he's injured. Judging by the look of it, it's too much blood to be only Five's, but Diego doesn't know if that fact is comforting or not. "I think Luther's asleep," he says, shrugging slightly. As for the others, he hasn't seen them since last night and they aren't his focus right now. "Are you hurt?"  
  
What a question that is. _Is_ Five hurt? Physically, no. Physically he's fine. Still a little sore in the ribs, still a little dehydrated and exhausted, but he's been worse off. He knows he can keep pushing for now, at the least, before any of it becomes a problem. But his heart aches worse than he's ever felt it as he finds himself standing in front of his brother again, so soon after he'd made himself the resolution that he would tell him everything. It felt so easy to declare that when he wasn't looking him in the eyes, but now-- 

He sighs and sets the briefcase down at the top of the stairs, and peels off his sticky blazer. "Depends what you mean by hurt,'" he says, not exactly meaning for it to come out like a jab, but he knows Diego hasn't forgotten about last night, and the way they parted.  
  
Diego sighs quietly, the regret that he felt last night coming back to the surface again. It’s a relief that Five isn’t physically hurt, though it's hard to know if he would have said so if he were, but it doesn’t make Diego feel any better to know that Five is still upset about yesterday. 

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” He says, his voice low, but his tone is genuine as he watches Five strip out of his bloody clothes, not unlike the other night after the consulate, only Diego had been one helping him out of his jacket. “But seriously, Five... _are_ you alright?”  
  
Five sighs, pulling his tie off and then yanking his sweater vest over his head, wobbling slightly. As the blood cools on him and sticks his clothes to his skin, the tiredness comes seeping back in. It isn't that he needs to sleep, he'd actually had a phenomenal night's sleep wrapped up in Diego's arms last night-- but rather he's just tired of the fighting. Tired of killing, tired of running. He just wants to get home and rest. 

"No," he says finally as he steps into the bathroom and turns on the sink until the water is hot enough to burn, and he sticks his hands under the faucet. The water gives him a purifying sort of scald.  
  
Diego follows, and the fact that Five leaves the door to the bathroom open is good enough for him to assume that his presence isn’t entirely unwanted. He leans against the frame of the door, arms folded across his chest as he watches the steaming water run off of Five’s hands. It has to burn, but Diego doesn’t move to stop him. 

He’s lucky enough to have gotten this far without a fight, so he carefully tests the limits of what Five is willing to accept right now, while he stays put where he is. “What’s up?” He asks, his tone softening along with his expression as he tries to meet Five’s gaze in the mirror and the look on his face is almost unreadable.  
  
Five meets his eye in the glass before running his wet hands over his face. He runs a cloth under the water and wipes down his neck and cheeks, desperate to get the blood off. It feels vile, he feels vile. 

"What _isn't_ up, Diego?" he says, his voice tired. There's no heat or confrontation in his tone. "Another apocalypse is coming, Elliot is dead, we have 90 minutes to get back home, our siblings are scattered to the wind, your girlfriend ditched you, and you hate me. This is pretty much the worst week of my life. Oh, and did I mention that I haven't gotten a break since the last apocalypse? I'm _tired_ , Diego. I'm tired of fighting. With you, with the Commission, with the fucking _Swedes_. I'm just... tired."  
  
It’s a truckload of information that Five has just dumped on him, but Diego only fixates on one part of it. He glosses over the fact that they have a way home, but they only have an hour and a half to do so, instead picking out the piece that makes Diego’s heart ache. 

“I don’t hate you.” He says quietly, watching Five rinse the blood from his face, leaving his weary expression even more visible, except for a spot of blood on his neck that he missed. Diego stares at it for a long moment, finally moving out of the doorway and stepping further into the bathroom, holding a hand out for the cloth so that he can help Five.  
  
Five watches Diego for a moment, looking him up and down before he rinses and wrings the blood out of the fabric and then hands it over to Diego as he pops the buttons of his shirt to pull it off. His side is still bruised badly from his waist up under his armpit, and his skin is tacky and mottled with blood across his shoulders, chest and belly. 

"Could have fooled me," he mutters softly as he hops up to sit on the counter beside the sink.  
  
Diego comes to stand between Five’s legs at the counter, one of his knees jabbing into Diego’s hip as he takes the damp washcloth from him. His eyes trail over Five’s chest, taking in the splatter of blood, the dark bruises, the healing bullet wound in his stomach. He looks worse for wear and Diego truly feels bad. 

Five has done so much for them and all Diego has given in return is hostility. He swallows the lump in his throat, raising the cloth to Five’s neck to wipe away the missed spot, but he doesn’t stop there. “I mean it,” he says as he scrubs at a splotch on his collarbone, avoiding Five’s eyes. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”  
  
Five just lets himself be scrubbed for a moment, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of being taken care of by his brother for the first time in-- god, has it really been 15 years? Unexpectedly and without warning, he feels tears fill his eyes. He didn't think he could still cry, but it makes sense that if it would be anything that brought him to tears, it would be this. He blinks once and they roll down his cheeks, and he curses softly as he ducks his head, wiping at his eyes. 

"Sorry," he mutters. "I mean-- I'm sorry too."

Diego slowly pulls the cloth away for a moment when Five tilts his head forward, watching him wipe at his eyes and it hits Diego that he’s _crying_. He can’t remember the last time he saw Five cry, even when they were kids. It had always been Five wiping away his tears, not the other way around. He looks suddenly so very small, half naked and bunched up on the sink, skinny and wounded and bloody and crying. He _looks_ for the first time since returning, like a proper child. It's a harrowing thing to witness, in contrast with the tireless upright dignity he's carried himself with since the first day he returned.

Five decides in this moment that he's done fighting. He doesn't want to fight with Diego ever again. He catches Diego's hand by the wrist with a hiss when he skirts a little bit too close to the bruise on his side, but he lets the touch linger, just holding him there for a moment. His chest seizes with fear as he contemplates how deeply it would wound him now to be rejected. Probabilities and statistics run through his head, the likelihood of Diego telling him to fuck off, but the math doesn't really matter. 

All that matters is knowing for sure whether Five has a chance, or whether he should start the process of moving on. He thought he'd shut that door on his lifetime with Diego the moment the man died in the apocalypse, but he'd foolishly allowed himself to reopen it. Now he just needs to know whether to close it a second time-- and perhaps this time, burn the door altogether when he's done with it. 

He leans in, and rests his forehead on Diego's chest, exhaling softly. "Yesterday morning when I went out, I was looking for Lila. I wanted to find her and... tell her to come back. I thought I could have been wrong about her, and it was my fault she ran off. I just wanted to make things right."  
  
Diego feels a surge of protectiveness, and below it, of regret for making Five feel this way in the first place. He’d been too stubborn to see that Five was just trying to help all along. He rests one hand on Five’s knee, the other still holding the rag and wiping carefully at the blood on his torso, trying to be mindful of the bruises. He pulls back when he hears him say Lila’s name. It had been a few days since he’d last seen her and Diego was coming to terms with the fact that maybe she didn’t _want_ to see him, that she didn’t want to be found, after all that happened. He stares down at Five, but the other man isn’t looking at him. “Did you find her?”  
  
"Yeah," Five replies, and wearily lifts his head to look up at his brother. "Yeah, I did."

He wishes at least that he could feel some twisted satisfaction in delivering this news. He wishes he could offer a smug i-told-you-so. It would be easier if he could feel any pleasure in this whatsoever, but all he feels is tired and sad as green eyes meet brown, Diego's soulful and searching and sad. Five sighs, his jaw flexing. 

"She's one of them, Diego," he says softly, gripping the edge of the sink with both hands, feeling more tired now than he ever has. "She was sent by the Commission to get close to you on purpose. It was all staged."  
  
Diego drops the cloth from Five's chest, pulling back even further when Five says that. He searches his face, looking for any sign that Five is lying to him, and even when he can't see anything but honesty, Diego still can't believe it. Lila knew how to hold her own in a fight, had seemingly been following them, and had taken a sudden interest in him, but he thought it was just because she was _different_ , not because it was a set-up. 

"No," he says quietly, shaking his head and he wants to move away from Five, to stand on the other side of the room and point an accusing finger at him, but Diego's feet feel glued to the ground and he remains where he's standing between Five's legs. "She-- She can't be."  
  
Five reaches up to gently take Diego by both his arms, his hands can't fit all the way around his biceps but he gives them a squeeze anyway. "I'm sorry, Diego," he says, and he truly does mean it. It hurts in his stomach, the way Diego looks now, and simmering beneath the pain is a furious anger that Lila had the fucking _audacity_ to make Diego feel this way. He rubs his hands up and down Diego's arms with a sigh. "She's the daughter of one of the top executives. Getting close to you was a mission."  
  
Everything in Diego's body tells him to pull away when Five grabs him and he stares down at his hands curling around his arms, but he still can't move. His barely healed heart, still shattered from last night, is cracking all over again and the pieces are too small for him to glue back together, so he lets them fall. 

He'd trusted Lila - he'd opened up to her about things he hadn't told anybody, he'd defended her when Five tore her down, he'd _slept with her_. Diego didn't view sex as a purely intimate thing, but it'd felt different with her and now to know it all been part of a plan... the feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach and not even Five's apology can do much to make it go away. "I need to talk to her." He says, finally finding the will to take a step back.  
  
"Diego-- don't," Five leans forward. He feels a stab of panic as the vulnerability of this situation hits him. Teetering both on the edge of confession and the sink, stripped half naked with his skinny body fully exposed, battered and bruised and utterly betraying him with every opportunity, Five feels unbelievably _small_. He can't bear to watch Diego walk away now. He reaches out to take him by the hands to keep him from retreating, bracing his feet against the cupboard under the sink. 

His heart is pounding nauseously in his throat as he catches and holds Diego's eye. "Just listen to me. It doesn't matter if she wasn't real. If what you felt was real, I should have-- _fuck_ , I should have respected that. I fucked up, I just got angry and scared and jealous and I got in between you two before I even had a real reason to. It doesn't matter if I was right, I was still wrong."  
  
Diego looks down at the grip on his hands, his gaze slowly traveling back up to meet Five's eyes. He isn't going to let go, Diego knows that much. His only options are to pull so hard that it forces Five off the counter or stay. He chooses the latter after he hears what Five has to say. 

"Jealous?" he repeats, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He could understand Five's anger and fear in the situation - him getting close to a girl that he meant in a mental hospital isn't an easy pill to swallow - but _jealousy?_ There wasn't any reason for Five to be jealous. "What do you mean you were jealous?"  
  
Five isn't quite sure whether he meant to say jealous out loud or not, but it's too late to take it back now. His heart slams up into his mouth and his pupils dilate wildly as adrenaline fills his body. It's now or never, his entire body filled with that frightening, weightless sensation like a foot coming down in the dark on a stair that isn't there. It feels like those few inches where the foot plunges through the air, and the owner wonders whether this is how they die, crystalized down into a feeling that sits behind his ribs when he breathes in. 

He doesn't know what to say. There aren't any words that feel like enough, and there's not enough time for him to get them all out. Diego is holding his gaze intensely, and Five feels light-headed. 

Where to even start? He was jealous because he wanted to be in Lila's position? He feels selfish when it comes to Diego? He misses him? He _loves_ him. Nothing feels good enough, so he just reaches up to grab Diego by the back of the neck before he loses his nerve, and pulls him forward as he sits up straighter, his knees squeezing around the bigger man's hips as their mouths connect in a hard kiss. 

Five has always preferred action over words, anyway.  
  
Diego is staring at Five, growing more and more impatient as he waits for him to say something, say anything, but nothing prepares him for the feeling of Five's lips meeting his own. 

It's familiar and foreign all at the same time. He hasn't kissed Five since they were thirteen, pressed close in a twin bed that held all their secrets and for a moment, Diego feels like he's there. He feels the sheets against his skin and Five's legs tangling with his own, feels the same fire that begins to ignite in his stomach, but when his beard scratches against the other man's cheek, he realizes it's _not_ the same.

It should make want to pull back, but Diego doesn't. His hands come up to grip Five's thighs, long fingers curling almost completely around them, a reminder that even though Five is an adult, he's still looks like the boy Diego first taken a liking to nearly fifteen years ago. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Diego thinks it's fucked up, that _he's_ fucked up for kissing Five back harder.

He still doesn't pull away.  
  
Every fear inside of Five's chest unspools the moment he feels Diego lean in. Like a flower bud that had been closed up so tightly it ached, finally blooming open, its petals spreading with sweet relief, Five sighs against Diego's mouth. He angles up to meet him, tangling both hands into Diego's hair, holding him close, desperate for this moment to continue. He wants to build a home in this moment. His heart is pounding so hard he's certain Diego can feel his pulse in his tongue when it searches the seam of his brother's mouth, begging to be allowed inside. 

His heart is full, it feels too big for his chest. It feels like it's going to burst out through his skin and open around the two of them like a warm coat to shield them from the coming storm. Distantly he remembers the briefcase with its timer begging for his attention, but it's drowned out by the roaring of his blood in his ears as he wraps those skinny thighs around Diego's hips and hooks his ankles together behind his knees. 

Diego's hands on his legs even through his shorts burn like brands, like he'll permanently have imprints of Diego's hands on his skin for the rest of his life. He wants that more than anything.  
  
Diego kisses Five in earnest, his lips parting for him in an instant when he feels his tongue there, letting him in so easily it even surprises himself. He'd do anything Five asked, wrapped around his finger like a thread that pulls straight from his heart. 

He forget's about Lila, about the oncoming apocalypse, about JFK and their father. All he can think about is how soft Five's lips are against his, how tightly his hands are threaded in his hair, how warm his body feels against his own. A hand lets go of Five's thigh in favor of cupping his cheek instead, fingers curling around the back of Five's neck, keeping him close. Five may have initiated this, but Diego still expects him to blink out of here at any given moment. 

He's so caught up in it he barely hears heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, but a voice inside his mind is telling him to pull back, and Diego listens, breaking the kiss with a quiet gasp for air. He stares down at Five's lips as he pulls back, almost diving back in only to be stopped by a hand on his chest that pushes him back and away just as there's movement by the door and he drops his grip on his brother, turning his head to see Luther standing there.  
  
"Oh hey Five, you're back," Luther says, resting his hand on the door frame. He doesn't seem to register the fact that they're both red in the face, or how close they are, or the fact that they're both panting slightly. "Did you see Elliot--"

"Yeah, I saw," Five says, sounding a little bit irritated that they were interrupted, but as the fog in his mind clears, the clarity of their situation returns, and the time limit makes itself known to him again. He swallows hard. "Go to the living room, Luther, we'll meet you there in a second. Just have to finish getting cleaned up."

Luther nods and disappears from the doorway, and Five glances back up at Diego with eyes full of so many thoughts and feelings that they don't have the time to express right now. He just reaches out and rests his palm in the middle of Diego's chest again, both to placate him but also to keep him from closing the distance between them. 

"We'll talk about this," he promises, holding Diego's eye with a singular intensity. "But we have to save the world first."  
  
Diego doesn't look at Luther, instead his gaze flickers between Five and the floor, waiting until he's gone before he takes a step forward again, but Five's hand is on his chest, preventing him from any closer. He frowns, but before he can say anything, Five is already answering his question. 

He wants to jump on him, wrap his arms around him and pull him close again, wants to feel his lips against his own, but Diego is left with nothing more but a small hand on his chest, left to fill the space Five had just left. "Five..." He begins quietly, but he's not even sure what he wants to say. He just stares back at him for a long moment and a million questions begin forming, but he knows Five won't answer of them, so he bites his tongue instead.  
  
"I know," Five answers, without even knowing what Diego was going to say. He can guess the tone of his questions, at least. "But there's no time. We've got less than 90 minutes to round everyone up if we want a chance to get home. We can't waste any of that time with-- _this_ , no matter how bad we want to. When we get back to where we belong, we'll have all the time in the world."

He cups Diego's face in both hands and pulls him down for a much more chaste kiss before he hops down off the sink and shrugs his shirt back on, flipping his collar up to retie his tie around his neck. He glances up to meet Diego's eye in the mirror, where he still hasn't moved, and gives him a firm, "I promise."  
  
The second kiss leaves Diego yearning far more than the first did, something about it being so soft makes his heart ache to pull Five close again, but the other man is already moving, redressing himself, and all Diego can do is stand behind him and watch. 

He hears his promise and he tucks it away, into the back of his mind for safekeeping. He'll hold Five to it at the first opportunity he gets, but if they only have 90 minutes to get everything together, he knows it's going to have to wait. He reaches out from behind Five, his hands coming up to his neck to wipe off a stray drop of blood he missed, holding his gaze in the mirror before he wordlessly leaves the bathroom, letting Five finish dressing himself.  
  
Five's hands are shaking as he finishes knotting his tie, and pulls it up to his throat. There's so much noise in his head, so much to consider. That was as much of a yes as he could have ever expected from Diego. It feels too good to be true, so many years of pining after the man he loved and lost all culminating in the briefest of attacks. It isn't a panic attack exactly, but he has to grip the edge of the sink and hyperventilate for just a moment, emotion threatening to suffocate him completely. 

There will be time. He just has to get everyone safe first. So he locks everything distracting behind a door in his mind, where it leans and groans against the wood, and focuses on the mission like he's forced himself to do so many times over the last two weeks. 

He gives the run down to both Luther and Diego about how very little time they have to collect everyone, and Diego is sent off to gather Klaus while Luther goes to get Allison, and Five heads out to find Vanya. It'll be tight, but they have just under 70 minutes to do it, if the team finally works together for once, they might just make it. Diego forces himself not to think about Five, not to stare at his lips while he’s explaining the plan, and when they part ways, Diego resists the urge to look over his shoulder at him as he sets out to pick up Klaus. 

It's a long shot to think this family would ever work together, but it's the only hope they've got.  
  
Diego finds Klaus, or he finds Ben _controlling_ Klaus, which makes Diego feel like crying all over again as he gets a few moments with the other brother he thought he’d never see again. Ben asks for ten minutes, and with a glance down at the synchronized watch on his wrist, he gives them to him, but only because there’s something else he needs to do as well. 

He drags Elliot’s body to a field not too far from his apartment, secluded enough where nobody will roll up on him burying a dead body. As he sticks the shovel into the ground and digs up a pile of a dirt, he figures it’s the least they can do. He’d let them all into his home, he deserves to be laid to rest. 

He feels someone approach before he sees them, a figure dressed in black approaching from the corner of his eye and he stops before realizing it’s Lila. He looks between her and the hole he’s digging as Five’s warning about her echoes in his head. She’s dangerous, she used him, it was all a set up, and Diego’s very real feelings for her were slowly being replaced by bitterness. He doesn’t say anything to her, just looks away and continues digging.  
  
"Can we talk?" she asks as she trots up to him, sticking her thumbs in her belt loops. She didn't even trying to blend in with the 60s anymore, in her turtle neck and cargo pants and bright red combat boots, which only further digs in just how duplicitous she'd been with him from the start. 

She knows by now that Five had told his family everything, she can tell that much from the way Diego is angrily digging a hole instead of looking up at her, and she grimaces at the sight of the feet sticking out of the tarp in the wheelbarrow beside them. "Shit, is that Elliot?"  
  
Diego kicks the shovel harder into the ground, throwing dirt in the pile Lila happens to be standing next to, a spatter of it landing on her red boots, but Diego doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to talk to her, he already knows everything she’s going to say, but instead of shutting her out and locking her away, he gives in, if anything just to get answers. 

“Yeah,” He mutters, looking over his shoulder at Elliot’s body, at least thankful that she wasn’t around to find him, since it wasn’t necessarily a pleasant sight. He doesn’t stop digging, still doesn’t look her way. “What do you want?”  
  
"Shit, I liked him," Lila mutters, sounding genuinely remorseful at least for the man's demise. She sighs and steps a little closer, keeping careful watch of his feet and shovel to make sure he isn't about to turn around and whip her with it. "I just want to talk. Whatever Five said to you-- it probably isn't true, alright? Would you just look at me?"  
  
Diego lets out a frustrated sigh, but he lifts his gaze to look at her anyway, and when he does, he almost immediately regrets it. She looks sorry, but Diego can’t tell if it’s all just part of her scheme to use him or if the feeling is genuine. “Why? Is it easier to lie to me when I look at you?” He asks bitterly, leaning against the shovel as he pauses for a moment.  
  
"I'm not lying," she starts strong, but the look he gives her makes her wilt a little. "Okay, I lied a _little_ , but-- come on, Diego, everyone lies," she says, letting her hands fall to her thighs with a slap, laughing. The laugh doesn't last long when he doesn't laugh with her. "I bet there's stuff you lied to me about, right? Just cause I didn't say who my mum was, it's all doom and gloom all of a sudden?"  
  
“I didn’t.” Diego says sharply, and he means it. He hadn’t lied to her about anything. It had been one of the few times in his life he’d opened up so easily to someone, put all of his trust in her, showed her his powers, chose her over his family, and now Diego is reminded why he normally has such a hard time doing all that. “You _used_ me, Lila. I trusted you and you used me.”  
  
She seems startled by how firm he's being, her expression flickering between surprise and nonchalance as she steps a little bit closer. "Naw, come on, I didn't," she says, reaching out to brush her knuckles against his shoulder. "My mum was on my case for the job, but that wasn't about _you_. She wanted Five, everything with us, that was real."  
  
Diego watches her come closer, almost moving away from the hand that’s outstretched to him, but he remains where he is. The feeling of her hand on his shoulder is unsettling and he doesn’t completely trust her, but he wants to. He wants to believe that she felt the same way about him as he had, but he just can’t. “You still used me to get close to Five.” He says, the sharpness fading from his voice, turning into a tired hurt that matches the ache in his chest. “Do you know how hard it is trust people when you’ve just been manipulated your entire life?”  
  
She grimaces slightly. "Yeah," she admits-- and it's not a lie. "But you know what it's like to ask how high when someone with more power than you tells you to jump, even if you don't wanna, don't you? I mean your dad friggin' stabbed you."  
  
“And?” Diego asks, like he’s waiting for her to explain how that has anything to do with this. Sure, she’d been the one to save him, but only because she’d been following them in the first place, probably just to keep an eye on Five. She saved him that time and then ditched him a few days later, making him feel like he did something wrong, when really, she’d been in the wrong the whole time “You know, I really wanna believe you, Lila, but it’s hard right now.”  
  
"You'd get it if you met my mum," Lila says adamantly. "Your dad's shite, you'd get it. How no isn't an option." 

She pauses for a moment, watching him dig the hole, and she glances off towards Elliot before looking back at Diego. "Actually, do you want to?" she asks, rocking back on her heels. "Meet my mum, I mean. You could, if you wanted."  
  
Diego arches a brow, looking almost offended at her offer. He scoffs, shaking his head slightly as he digs the shovel back into the ground. “No, I don’t want to meet your mom,” he mutters. From the way both her and Five described her, there’s no way Diego wants to meet her, and he’d have no reason to either.  
  
Lila's shoulders slump. Well, there goes the easy way. She'd been hoping to do this willingly, but-- ah well. She came here with one goal in mind, and she intends to see it through one way or another, whether Diego agrees to it or not. She knows she can win him over-- probably. Hopefully.

"So that's it?" there's a little tremble in her voice that she quickly stamps down with both feet. "For good and all, then?"  
  
Diego hesitates for a moment, both in answering her and moving the shovel again. He stares down at where it hits the earth, at the hole he’s digging for the man in the wheelbarrow, then his gaze flickers down to his watch. He’s running out of time. If he’s late he risks Five’s wrath or being left behind. 

He finally lifts his gaze to look at Lila, catching the tone in her voice that she quickly tries to cover up and he doesn’t want to admit that it tugs at his heart. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, half-tempted to tell her that he’s going back home, but thinks better of it, in case she could somehow stop them.  
  
"Right," she sniffs, clearly acting like nothing's wrong, and she reaches into her back pocket to pull out a flask. "A toast for the road, then. For Elliot. I'm sorry to see the bastard go... he deserved better."

She takes a mouthful from the flask, mimes swallowing, and then pours out a small amount for Elliot, before holding it out for Diego with a little shrug and sad sort of smile. If nothing else, he'll take the flask out of pity, she knows him well enough by now to know that.  
  
Diego looks at the flask she’s holding out to him, his eyes searching her face, but all he sees is a hint of the smile that first won him over. Even though there’s a sad undertone to it, it’s still warm and it pulls him in, so he reaches for the flask and takes a swig from it, glancing towards Elliot as he does so. 

He screws the cap back on and tosses it in Lila’s direction as the liquor burns down his throat. If anything, it’s a nice distraction from the odd mix of feelings stirring in his head, both Lila and Five fighting for the forefront of his mind. He wraps his hands around the shovel again, but as he shoves it back into the earth, something doesn’t feel right. Everything is spinning, rushing around him like he’s fast-forwarding a movie, but he’s stuck in place. He doesn’t drink that often, but he’s not _this_ much of a lightweight. His hands curl tightly around the shovel as he sways, the realization hitting him that Lila just drugged him, but he stumbles backwards just as everything starts to go black, before he can say anything to her.  
  
The last thing he sees before losing consciousness is Lila spitting out the mouthful she'd taken, wiping her mouth on the back of her arm before she grabs his ankles and the world spins black.


	13. Chapter 13

When Five's family fails to arrive on time to go home, he's beside himself. Anger and disappointment war in equal measure behind his ribs, but the worst of it is the worry for Diego. He knows the man wouldn't miss being on time, he _knew_ how tight the deadline was. Unless--

No. Five refuses to entertain the idea that he'd chased Diego off with his feelings. Diego had kissed him back in that bathroom, he'd reciprocated, damn it. He didn't just take off after something like that, it wasn't possible.

But that means the alternative is that something _happened_ to him, and worse still is the fact that he simple doesn't have the time to look for Diego, because their only other possible ticket out of Dallas arrived about 15 minutes ago, and will be gone in just a few hours.

Diego can handle himself, Five _has to_ act now, and he takes Luther with him to get ahold of that damn briefcase. Then he'll be able to give some attention to the swirling horror of the unknown.

He's awash with horrible what-ifs. Did the hospital find Diego again? Was he arrested? Kidnapped? Did Lila hurt him? The Swedes? The Handler? There's so many possibilities and none of them calm the nerves that are quickly spiking as a symptom of the paradox psychosis that grips him tighter by the minute while in proximity to himself. His hands are shaking, his face is sweating, and all he can think about is getting this done as quickly as possible so they can look for Diego.

While Five works, Diego wakes up in a place he doesn’t recognize, sitting across from a woman that Lila introduces as her mother, and to her, his boyfriend. All of a sudden he’s angry, he’s hurt, but most of all, he’s confused, not quite sure why Lila would drug him and bring him here, especially when the woman in front of him seems to have no interest in him. A quick glance down at his watch tells him he’s going to miss the time limit, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s sure that Five wouldn’t leave without him. 

He’s told he’ll be working here and Lila ignores any questions, leaving him to his own devices. A mistake on her part, because Diego is never known to just accept anything. 

After stumbling into a room that a kind analyst named Herb tells him he’s not supposed to be in, he sees it - JFK doesn’t die, but the FBI building just down the block explodes, setting off the nuclear apocalypse that Five had warned them about it. The cause? As Diego stares at the screen, at the floating and glowing image of his sister, he realizes that she will always be the bomb. 

Stopping her isn’t easy. It takes him, Allison, _and_ Klaus to do it, with a few minutes to spare for him to save Kennedy. He spots their dad on the grassy knoll, same as from the footage, and just as Diego tackles him, shots still ring out in the air. The man beneath him is not his father, but he presents a note to him on Reginald’s stamped stationery, the message a simple told you so and Diego fights back the burn in his eyes as he crumples the note in his fist.  
  
They reconvene back at Elliot’s and although Diego is happy to see that his family is still here, the feeling that they’re stuck here is settling deeper in his stomach, along with the fact that Lila will likely come looking for him again. They’re all wanted, he finds out as they huddle around one of the television sets in Elliot’s apartment, except Five who the public seems to think is a kid being held hostage by them. He glances over to Five, noticing that he looked a little worse for wear himself, and slowly, Diego moves off the railing he’d been leaning on to approach him.

"Where _were_ you?" Five hisses, his voice soft and angry as the rest of their siblings focus on the TV and listen to the report of their wanted status. He's not really angry at Diego, there's so much to be angry at before Diego. Their predicament, their father, the Handler, himself... he's exhausted, but it seems like _exhausted_ is becoming a personality trait for him these days. 

He sees Diego give him a pitiful expression and he sighs, disappearing in a warp of blue light that he knows the rest of his siblings won't question. The answering thump of his reappearance sounds out just upstairs, and Diego looks up to see Five leaning over the railing of the balcony before he pushes back off to vanish deeper into the apartment, confident his brother will follow. 

Sure enough he hears bootfalls coming up the stairs, and as soon as Diego is within range, he grabs him by both hands and drags him deeper still, shoving him down onto the couch to loom over him and he asks again in that same low hiss, "Where _were you_ , Diego?" he asks, straightening his rumpled clothes, which had fallen into quite the state of dishevelment in his fight with himself. He can feel his cheek still throbbing under his eye, where it's gone very red in the place his younger self had clocked him in the face. "Allison, Vanya and you were _all_ missing, we could have been home by now."

Diego is slightly surprised with the urgency in both his tone and his actions as Diego stumbles backwards into the couch. There are still patches of him covered in dirt and for a moment he feels guilty, before suddenly remembering that Elliot won’t mind. He left Elliot’s body to rot sitting in a wheelbarrow beside a half-dug hole. He sighs quietly, but shifts his attention back up to Five. 

“Lila drugged me and took me to the Commission.” He admits quietly. He’s glad to know he wasn’t the only one who failed to show up, and Five doesn’t seem mad, just worried. He studies the man hovering over him, his eyes narrowing at the redness around his eye before he frowns. “What happened to you?”

"You went to the Commission?" Five hisses, keeping his voice low so the others downstairs won't hear. He immediately starts patting Diego down, grabbing his arms and running his fingertips along the inside of his forearms, pressing hard enough that his fingers dimple into Diego's skin. "Did you lose consciousness at any point? Did they put anything in you? Lila _drugged_ you?"

It's too much information too quickly. Five's heart has been seized with panic over the last several hours over where Diego had been, but in all of his manic nightmares never once had he thought Diego would have been brought to the fucking Commission. That's so much worse than anything else he'd feared.

Diego’s eyes widen slightly at the feeling of Five’s hands all over him, pressing hard into his skin and it just makes Diego even more confused. “What? No. I mean, yeah, I was out for a little while, but I don’t think anything happened.” He felt fine, except for the feeling of the blood rushing back to his limbs as he woke up again, but he didn’t think that was anything to be concerned about. 

He grabs Five’s wrist, firm enough to draw his attention back to him, but not hard enough to hurt him. “Hey,” he murmurs, meeting the other man’s eyes. “I’m fine, alright? But are you okay?”

Five's shoulders slump slightly, satisfied when he doesn't feel the telltale bump of any tracking devices under Diego's skin, and he allows himself a moment of peace. He exhales the tension from his body and looks Diego in the eye, getting lost for a moment in his familiar dark gaze. He finds himself looking instinctively at Diego's left eye, a force of habit from so many years of living with his one-eyed husband. It's still surreal, standing in front of him with two eyes in his head. 

It still hasn't really sunk in for Five that he saved Diego. He rescued him from the lifetime of harrowing survival the two of them had to eke out in the wasteland together. He's spared him the hunger and fear and anguish of loneliness. It's hard to think of it considering the state of things, but Five succeeded in this, his most important mission. His body is flooded in a moment with relief, and with the truth that had been spilled between their shared lips in the bathroom hours ago, there's no reason for Five to just suck it up and tolerate the pain anymore. 

So he doesn't. He climbs into Diego's lap, thighs spreading around his hips until they're chest to chest, and he winds his arms around the other man's neck to just invade his space, soak up his warmth, feel how _solid_ and _real_ and _alive_ and **_whole_ **he is under him. He buries his face into the side of Diego's neck, trembling with repressed emotion as it overwhelms him completely. Maybe he's a bad person, maybe it's selfish to want to claim this Diego after he'd already gotten 30 years with him. Maybe the right thing to do would have been to push him away. 

But the Commission did everything in their power to make Five into a machine that had not an ounce of goodness left in him, and so he sinks comfortably into his selfishness.

Diego opens his mouth to question Five as he starts to climb into his lap, but the second he settles against him, all of Diego’s thoughts go out the window and all he can think about is the weight of Five in his lap, the way his head tucks into his shoulder, and how his arms wrap around his neck. He winds his own arms around Five’s waist, holding him close, but when he feels him shaking his arms tighten around him. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low as he rests his head against Five’s. He needs to remind himself that Five is twice his age, not the boy that he desperately seems like right now, but Diego still feels a need to protect and comfort him. “Hey, Five, it’s alright.”

It's felt like nothing but failure after failure after failure. First Five failed to save the world, then he failed to bring everyone back in time correctly, then he failed to get them home again not once, but twice. The failures have just been stacking up and up and up and the towering list has been making him feel smaller and smaller and smaller. 

But Diego is alive. His family is alive. They're all downstairs, unsplintered and together. Even if it's not the righteous victory Five had been hoping for, it's better than nothing. He exhales a long, slow breath, for the pleasure of feeling Diego's arms wind tighter around him to compensate for his chest shrinking. On his next inhale he keenly feels the pressure of those arms crushing into him and he makes an involuntary noise that's much closer to a sob than he would have liked. 

He pulls back far enough to look Diego in the face again, running both of his hands into his long hair, fisting them at his scalp with both hands so he can tug his head back far enough to look him in the eye. There's so much he wants to say as his eyes dart over Diego's face, taking in his smooth skin, free from the scars or pockmarks or blemishes he'd accumulated in their time in the wastes like a roadmap. Just like Five, he has a second chance. 

Five kisses him, hard.

Diego responds to the kiss with a low moan that tears from his chest as his arms wrap tightly around Five, his fist curling into the back of his jacket. It’s like this morning, but better. That kiss had been hesitant and cautious, like the ones they first shared when they were younger. This one, though, sent a spark through Diego’s veins and all he can do is meet Five the same intensity. 

It’s a desperate kiss, all the words that the two of them can’t find are poured into it and it speaks for them. There’s no need to say anything else, not as one of Diego’s hands comes up to grip Five’s cheek, pressing up into the kiss as he tries to drag Five even closer.

Five leans into him completely, overwhelmed by how _big_ Diego is. The last time they were together like this, Five had been almost twice this size. While he'd never gained much height, he'd gained a significant amount of muscle, to the point where if he'd been in his prime still instead of botching the age reversal, he's pretty sure he could give Diego a run for his money in musculature. But instead he feels scrawny and almost _frail_ in Diego's lap-- and why it turns him on, he doesn't know. 

Maybe it's from living a lifetime steeped in fear, and the security of being wrapped up in the arms of someone so capable of protecting him should he need it appeals to some part of Five's primal brain. Or maybe he doesn't need to think about it that hard, and he can just enjoy the way Diego's hands feel massive on his frame. 

Too hot all of a sudden, he strips off his jacket and whips it to the side where it lands across the arm of the sofa, and his hands scramble against Diego's harnesses to unclip them over his chest. Their family is downstairs, some part of him reminds himself dully. They aren't even behind a closed door, they're just on the couch at the top of the stairs while everyone is huddled around the TV below them. But he finds that he doesn't _care_ as he shoves Diego's harnesses off over his shoulders so he can spread and rake his hands over his firm chest through his shirt, angling his head to fit his tongue inside the younger man's mouth.

Diego arches up as Five slides his harness off, only distantly aware like Five that the rest of their family is downstairs. It’s hard to focus on anything but the feeling of Five in his lap, so warm and small and downright perfect. He parts his lips for Five, granting him more access. Just like earlier, the man in his lap is in control, but Diego isn’t complaining. He’s pressing up eagerly, his hands sliding down Five’s arms, coming down his chest until he grips his hips again. Without the bulky jacket in the way, his fingers spread over his body, and Diego is sure he’s going to hell as the thought alone is enough to make him flush. 

He tugs Five's shirt from his shorts, untucking it just enough to snake a hand underneath and Five’s skin nearly burns him, but Diego can’t pull away. He’s already in too deep.

Five eats frantically at his mouth, breathing hard through his nose and only barely choking down the moans that would surely alert their family downstairs. Diego's hands feel monstrous on his frame, between the two of them they can wrap almost all the way around his waist, a fact which sends a shiver up his spine.

He yanks his tie out of his vest and tugs the knot loose, pulling it off his neck and tossing it to join his jacket. He yanks his top button free to remove the final constriction from his throat, and he breaks the kiss finally to drag his teeth over Diego's jaw up to his ear.

"I want you," he whispers, his voice hot and low, sticking in his throat with a moan when Diego's hands wring over his waist. Every little moan that falls from Five’s lips is the sweetest sound that Diego’s ever heard and he swallows them eagerly, partially for safekeeping, partially to keep them hidden from any attentive ears downstairs. 

Then Five is whispering in his ear and Diego bites back a moan of his own, the hair on the back of his neck rising up at the feeling of his mouth moving against his ear. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, his hands tightening around Five’s waist, forcing his hips down as his own slowly rock up. 

He tilts his head back until it hits the back of the couch, pulling away just enough to look at Five. He lets go of his waist in favor of pushing one hand further up his chest, watching it appear from the opening of his shirt, long fingers brushing over the delicate skin of his collarbones. Diego wants to mark him, wants to draw more of those sweet sounds from his lips, wants to see how his hand fits around his neck as he sits in his lap.

The urge to undress completely is almost as overwhelming as Diego's bulk under him, but instinct warns him of how vulnerable that would make him in the event one of their siblings comes upstairs for any reason. That fear isn't quite enough however to keep him from twisting his hands in the collar of Diego's shirt and pulling him over on top of him as he falls over onto his back on the cushions.

All he wants is Diego's weight on top of him, and as soon as he gets it he lets out a helpless involuntary whine against his brother's shoulder. He pulls Diego's collar to the side with one hand far enough to sink his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, and slides his other hand up under his shirt to feel across his smooth abs. He lightly skirts his fingertips over the still-healing wound where Reginald had stabbed him, and another surge of protective energy has him releasing his collar to throw his arm up around his neck instead.

His thighs squeeze around Diego's hips as he ruts up against him, his adolescent body betraying him yet again, sending blood flowing south in _rivers_. He can feel his shorts going tight over his groin, and when his hips bounce up against the younger man's, it's a blessing his teeth are still digging into his shoulder, because if the moan that spills between them hadn't been muffled by Diego's skin, it would have echoed through the entire shop.

Diego braces himself with his hands on either side of Five’s head as he’s tugged on top of him, still able to use enough of his brain to realize he could probably crush Five if he lands on him too hard. He settles on top of him, one leg slotted between Five’s as his fingers curl into his soft hair. 

He’s biting his shoulder, but the rush it sends through Diego, along with the muffled moan he hears, is enough to make him roll his hips down against Five’s as his free hand snakes between them, slipping beneath Five’s vest and shirt. He presses it against Five’s chest, short nails scratching at his stomach, stopping just above the waistband of his shorts. 

Any thought of stopping slips from Diego’s mind. He forgets that their siblings are downstairs, that they’re all considered wanted criminals, that he still stinks of sweat and dirt, that Lila was still probably out to get him. He can feel the drag of Five’s erection over his own, and even though he’s not in the body of a thirteen-year-old like his brother is, he still finds himself growing hard faster than he has in a while as his head drops down to rest against Five’s and his fingers slip below the waistband of his shorts.

Five sucks a sharp breath in through his nose when he feels Diego's big hand wedge down the front of his shorts. His cock reacts instantly, jumping up to the touch, the breath being stolen from him entirely at the feeling of being touched for the first time, like _this_ , in decades. The last time he felt anything like this was with Diego, too, as it happens, back before he ran away, when they would fumble their way stupidly through kisses and over-the-clothes rutting. He'd been taller than Diego, then. 

In the apocalypse, sex wasn't even close to a priority for Five for a long time. he had to look after Diego, nurse him back to health, _survive_ , the last thing on his mind was hormones. It wasn't until several years later that they would fall into one another's arms again, not until he was seventeen years old. He never really had a metric for how outrageously oversensitive he would feel, like this. 

The sound of foot steps on the stairs hits his ears, and his eyes widen as his teeth disengage from Diego's shoulder. He doesn't have time to think, he just tightens his arm around Diego's neck, and with a dizzying thud and a pop, the two of them vanish from the couch and reappear with a thump on Elliot's bed, just as the vision of Vanya comes up the stairs, an outline through the frosted glass windows of Elliot's bedroom. 

Five sits up in a flash, his chest heaving as Diego rolls off of him to contend with the nauseating sensation of being jumped without warning, and his green eyes track the image of Vanya through the glass, willing her not to notice that the two of them are missing, that there are two shapes beyond the foggy panes. Luckily she seems more preoccupied by the phone, which she turns her attention to and starts to make a call. 

Dropping flat onto his back on the mattress with a miserable groan, Five digs the heel of one hand into his eye, and the other hand he clamps down around his dick, which throbs and aches in his shorts as he wheezes, "No _time_."  
  
Diego barely has time to process what’s going on before he lands on the mattress in Elliot’s bedroom, his stomach churning as he forces himself to sit up on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Jesus...” He mumbles, breathing deeply through his nose until the feeling fades and the room stops spinning, but it still kills the mood. 

He glances over his shoulder, first at the frosted glass door and the figure on the other side of it, then down to Five as he hears him speak. His eyes focus on where his hand is grasping and even though not even ten seconds have gone by since he felt like throwing up, he’s still interested, especially watching the way that Five’s chest rises and falls and the way that his hips press up into his hand. 

“We can be quick.” Diego murmurs, turning on the bed to face Five, although he’s not sure he wants that. He doesn’t want this be to rushed, like every other moment he’s had with Five recently has felt.

Five makes an embarrassingly whiny noise in the back of his throat, as his dick throbs in his shorts again, hard enough that he can feel it twitch in his palm. There aren't _technically_ any pressing matters for them to pay attention to now... the Commission is bound to come after them eventually, which will need to be a priority at some point, but all he wants to do is throw off all his clothes and lay his body on top of Diego's until he can't breathe or move or speak or _think_. 

His tunnel-vision when it comes to "The Mission" is really going to ruin his life one of these days. 

"I don't want to be quick," Five whispers Diego's exact thoughts finally when he pulls his hand away from his face, tipping his head to the side to meet Diego's eyes with his own. His cheeks are flushed, high and bright on the apples, and his hair is a mess across his forehead. Clothing rumpled, shirt untucked and collar open, he looks properly debauched. Not unlike the night he spent drunk in Diego's bed, months ago for the younger man, only days ago for Five.

Diego swears that he can see Five’s cock twitch beneath his hand, and he wants to crawl between his legs, unzip his shorts just enough to watch it spring free and get his mouth around it, but he swallows hard and forces himself to look away, meeting Five’s eyes instead. “No, I know,” he murmurs, moving to settle down on his side next to Five, a hand lingering on the mattress between them. 

His eyes flicker down to the line of exposed skin between his shirt and his shorts and he can’t help himself but slowly tracing his fingers over the expanse of his waist, so soft beneath his rough hands. He catches Five’s gaze again, but not before his eyes trail over his pink lips and his red cheeks. “ _Fuck_ , Five...” He whispers, his hand sliding back up his shirt, palm flat against his smooth belly. “You really know how to tease a guy, huh?”

Five is so frustrated, so pent up, that when the pressure of his hand grinding into his cock combines just so with the way Diego's _big big_ hand slides over his stomach, it hits him with the force of a sledgehammer. Even he doesn't expect it, it hits him with such strength that he has to throw his other hand up to clamp over his nose and mouth, giving a couple aborted choking sounds as a gusty moan tries and fails to make it out of his mouth. He's taken off guard by the pleasure, suckerpunched stupid in a single second by that broad warm palm skirting across his stomach.

Cumming in his shorts like a fucking preteen has got to be a new low for Five, especially since he's been working so hard to assert his maturity. His eyes squeeze shut and his brow furrows as he trembles on the spot for a few shameful seconds, lost in the pleasure of Diego's big hand spread across his sensitive belly-- and then the agonizing embarrassment catches up with him and his eyes snap open. He has just long enough to make eye contact with Diego before he disappears in another flash of blue light, and Diego hears the answering thud of his powers from the bathroom down the hall, as his hand falls to make contact with the mattress in Five's absence.

Five shuts the door, but it doesn't have a lock, so he just stumbles back to sit on the frilly plush cover of Elliot's toilet seat, hanging his head in both hands as he grapples with the absolute mortification. He can feel his seed cooling in his underwear and going tacky against his skin, which just feels like insult to injury. Here he's been making all these bold assertions about his adulthood in spite of his _miserable_ adolescent body-- and now here that body is, making him look like a fool, tipping over the edge from something as simple as a mild pet over his stomach.

Diego's going to _laugh_ at him.

It takes Diego a second to realize what just happened, the hand that had been on Five’s stomach suddenly falling to the mattress when the body beside him disappears. He recalls way Five’s face scrunched up in pleasure, how the sounds that fell from his lips made Diego’s own cock twitch, how his back had arched off the bed. 

“Shit,” Diego sighs, pushing himself off the bed. He glances through the frosted window, seeing Vanya’s figure still lingering by the phone and he takes a moment to straighten himself out, ignoring how tight his pants feel around his crotch, before he leaves the bedroom. His eyes immediately land on his harness sitting in a pile with Five’s jacket and tie and his eyes widen for a brief moment, when they meet Vanya’s, he merely gives her an awkward smile and continues towards the bathroom. 

He’s not going to laugh or make fun of Five. If anything, he’s just frustrated and disappointed, but he can clearly tell this is a sensitive subject for his brother, so he knocks once on the door before he tries the knob and finds it open, pushing it just enough to poke his head through. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Can I come in?”

Five is leaning on the sink with both hands, his head hanging down with his chin to his chest. He'd just thrown out the wad of toilet paper he'd stuffed down his pants to clean up, and even that brief touch had shamefully excited him. This is _humiliating_. 

"Yeah," he croaks, because it's kinder than asking if Diego _has to_. He sighs and stands upright, and starts to tuck his shirt back into his shorts, staring grimly at himself in the mirror. He runs his hand through his hair to push it back off his forehead, as Diego glances down the hall to see Vanya trotting back downstairs, not paying attention to him whatsoever so he can slip into the bathroom and close the door behind him. 

Five looks up at Diego, his lips pressed into a line. His face and ears are still blotchy and red, but it's not from arousal this time, and that much is clear by the conflicted expression he's wearing. "I'm sorry," he mutters, buttoning the top button of his collar. "I'm still not used to this body. I've only had it for two weeks."  
  
As much as Diego wants to once again close the distance between them, he remains by the door, his arms slowly folding across his chest as he watches Five. He can tell he’s embarrassed and he almost tells him not to be, he’s been thirteen once, he remembers what it’s like, but he thinks better of it. He knows it would only make things worse. 

“It’s fine, Five,” he says instead, shaking his head softly as he decides to move closer, leaning one hand against the sink next to Five. Their hands are close, but not touching, just like how his chest is just inches away from Five’s shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.” 

The sudden uproar of voices from downstairs has Diego looking over his shoulder towards the door as the they both fall quiet and it almost sounds like the rest of their family is arguing downstairs. He lets out a sigh as he turns his head back towards Five, hesitating for a brief moment before he lays a hand on his back. “We should get down there, anyway.”

Five sighs, he knows Diego is right. As much as he aches and burns for the man standing next to him, they have to see what's going on downstairs. He disappears in a flash of light, only to return a second later to hand Diego his harness, and he shrugs his blazer back on over his shoulders. It almost feels like insult to injury to do it, but Five can't help himself as he puts a hand on Diego's shoulder and stands up on his tiptoes to give his brother a kiss. 

"We'll find time," he whispers. "I promise."

And then he disappears again, leaving Diego to get himself redressed in the bathroom alone.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Diego makes it downstairs, Vanya is in the process of trying to convince them all to come with her to her lover's farm. Five explains that running off to _anywhere_ is a bad idea while the Commission is undoubtedly hunting them, which only results in Vanya running off alone. 

But of course, they can't just let her run off alone-- and so they all pile into the car with her moments later. It was inevitable, there was no world in which they would leave her behind. 

Five twists to look at Diego, their eyes meeting with intent. He wants to reach out and take his hand, squeeze it, reassure him-- but all he has to give him is his gaze. It's not safe to be openly affectionate with him in front of their siblings without knowing how they would react to the news. They might be precociously teasing when it comes to Luther and Allison, but Five is still physically an adolescent, and the fact that he's an adult might not matter to them. Even if Five was capable of being vulnerable enough with his emotions to give Diego affection in front of other people, it wouldn't be safe. But there's all the love in the world in those hard green eyes.

Diego sits in the backseat, one of his shoulders pressing into the door, the other into Klaus, who has no concept of personal space, but when Five turns his head to look at him, any complaints melt out of his body. His hands settle in his lap, resisting the urge to reach out to him, and when he feels that their look is becoming noticeably too long, he shifts his gaze out the window. 

Vanya takes them to the farm, where it’s snowing, but only over the land the farmhouse sits on and once they make it inside, Diego sees what the problem is. He barely has any time to process it before Klaus calls his attention to something, and as they crowd around the door, his gut sinking when he spots both Lila and the Handler across the field. He exchanges a glance with Five, worried brown eyes meeting furious green ones, and when Five moves forward to approach them, Diego follows without a second thought. 

They’re here to kill the man who murdered the former board of directors, the Handler announces and as Diego gives Five a confused look, only to be met with something that looks like regret on his brother’s face, he realizes _that’s_ where had Five had been, that’s why he showed up covered in blood, why his own hands were bloody as they shared that first kiss.

Their odds of a winning this battle are great until there are suddenly hundreds of Commission agents in the field, all pointing guns at them. Diego can look down one barrel of a gun without fear, but this sight has him shaking down to his bones. Even Five, always so stoic and refined, has a flash of panic cross his face. When Five tells him to run, Diego doesn’t hesitate.  
  
Five grasps his hand and for a moment Diego thinks it’s because they’ll die on this field together, but when they reappear behind the wheel of a tractor in a flash of blue light, Diego has to fight his insides to keep his breakfast in. The agents are getting closer and Five’s hand is on his knee, desperately trying to warp them further, but the blue light on Five’s hands fizzles out every time he tries. He’s too weak to move both of them. 

A plan begins to form in Diego’s mind, one he’s not even entirely sure will work, but he has to try. If it’ll save Five, it’s worth it. “Go,” he says, his hand clamping over Five’s for a brief moment. That’s all that they can spare, a single moment where Diego looks into Five’s eyes, telling him everything that he can’t right now. “I’ll hold them back.” 

He doesn’t give Five a chance to reply before he puts himself in the line of the agents and their gunfire, his hands coming up in front of him as he focuses all his power into them. As the bullets draw closer, Diego squeezes his eyes shut, fully expecting to be pierced with them, but when he reopens his eyes, they’re suspended in the air a few feet away from him and he uses all his power to redirect them off to the side before ducking back behind the tractor. 

He looks for Five, but instead sees Vanya, who uses a shock wave so powerful it takes out everyone, except for Lila and the Handler, safe in their own force field before Lila is suddenly floating, glowing the same way Vanya does, and she shoots the shock wave back at them, sending them all flying backwards, except for Diego, whose leg gets stuck underneath the tractor, pinning him to the ground and forced to watch Lila try to kill his family.  
  
She’s just as strong as Luther, she throws Allison’s rumor right back at her, she can warp like Five, she’s _just like them_ , and the realization hits Diego harder than he expects it to, standing on already shaky legs after his siblings come to rescue him. “Where’d she go?” he asks, looking towards the barn, then back at his family, noticing that Five isn’t there either. “Shit, where’s Five?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead just books it as fast as he can towards the barn.

The sounds of fighting alerts him, and their siblings behind him, to the battle happening inside the house, flashes of blue light sending the two of them across the house in a furious and equally-matched fight. Without the advantage of his powers, Five finds himself in a dangerous position. He's not able to get the upper hand easily, this is getting _dangerous_. His own limits are fast approaching, and he has no idea how long she can go, if he doesn't get out of this situation soon it could get extremely bad for him. 

It's Klaus who comes to the rescue, surprisingly. When Five sees him through a window, his hands glow blue and materialize several ghosts in the room, and Five doesn't hesitate. He turns and teleports out of the room and back into the barn, hoping to buy himself some time. Wounded, exhausted and pushed to his limits, he staggers over to just try and catch his breath. He glances through the door, looking for Diego, begging the ether that he's still alive, bargaining with the forces of the universe that they didn't come this far only to be separated. 

He's broken out of his thoughts by Lila jumping into the barn with him, and he has no choice but to defend himself-- but this time, both physically _and_ in reputation, when Lila reveals how he'd been the one to kill her parents on a job so many years ago. 

It wasn't Five's fault, not really. He was just an extension of the Commission, a gun being held at the end of a hand. A weapon that had no more agency than a gun that lies on a table, but Lila didn't see it that way. Unsurprising, Five probably wouldn't have in her position either. She looks different to him then, softer, sympathetic. He understands personally how it feels to be stuck under the Handler's thumb.  
  
The rest of his family arrives, too, and thank god for them, because they say all the right things to her, the things Five lacks the warmth and charisma to say. Gentle things about family and love, things he feels down to his bones but can never manage to get up the back of his throat and through his teeth. The Commission had stripped that from him, taken his softness and kindness and twisted it into a weapon. His eyes drift past Lila to Diego, relief filling him for just long enough to distract him. 

And then he feels the bullets pierce him. 

He sees Diego fall first, dropping to the ground bleeding and choking, and Five's body goes numb with the pain from multiple gunshot wounds to his chest and stomach that render him incapable even of wailing as a different, new pain fills him when he watches the lights go out in Diego's eyes.

Another shot rings out and he watches Lila fall to the ground, but can't bring himself to feel a single thing for her, in spite of how the others had spoken to her like she was family. All Five can think is that if he hadn't walked out on Diego that day at the asylum, none of this would be happening. He wouldn't be dying in the hay, bleeding out and resigned, his outstretched hand just inches shy of touching Diego's vacant face. Wheezing, he feels tears leak from his eyes. It isn't _fair._

Five had been sinking tiredly into that cold, comforting darkness, a part of him instinctively ready to give up the fight, when he feels warmth on the side of his neck. He opens his eyes wearily, and finds himself looking up at the face of his husband, the man he spent his entire life with. He's too weary to consider it strange, too delirious with blood loss to question why he's there. Some part of him knows that this close to death, it would make sense for him to hallucinate his loved ones. 

“Five...” he hears Diego whisper, his voice deep and low from years of breathing in apocalyptic smog, but it’s a voice that Five recognizes somewhere in the life that’s left in him. “C’mon, Five, you have to get up.”

Five's lips move, but he can't summon a sound. Another gunshot sounds in the barn and he twitches slightly, his eyes focused on the apparition above him. He wants to speak to him, wants to beg Diego to take him with him and take away this pain. He wants to be done fighting. He wants to _rest_. His eyes droop from his husband's face to the face of his counterpart lying dead in the hay beside him, and everything comes into focus all at once-- his fight _isn't_ over. Diego hovering over him now, a promise of what could become of him if he gave up, reminds him that he's never done fighting. His work is never done. 

With herculean effort, he summons every last ounce of his strength into one final surge, his father's words echoing in his mind, a reminder to try time travel in smaller bite-sized pieces. This feels like the only bite that will ever matter. 

It gets easier, luckily, after only a few moments of effort. He feels the bullets leave his body, watches the Handler walk backwards out of the barn, watches Diego and the rest of his family hover back up to their feet, their lifeblood sinking back into their veins where it belongs. It's so much a relief that when he lands on his feet on the other side of the barn again, he's so taken off guard that he almost doesn't catch the Handler's gun in time when she comes into the barn ready to shoot them all dead. 

When the final Swede kills her, he's almost jealous. He would have given almost anything to get the killing blow on the Handler.  
  
Lila vanishes with the Handler's briefcase, but he doesn't move to stop her retreat. She'd caused them enough grief, and at this point he's pretty confident she won't be back. Her entire concept of her revenge has changed, the object of her wrath shifted to her late mother. His family is safe for the time being-- and if it isn't, he'll deal with her again when the time comes. 

For now, he turns his attention back to Diego, who he just watched die moments ago. He's starting to get really sick of watching his entire family die. He takes a step towards him, thoughtless of the others around him, his gaze haunted as he looks up at the man who has no idea of the demise he'd just suffered, staring conflicted at the space Lila vanished from, and he takes him by the hand with a soft, tired, "Are you okay?" while Vanya rushes past them to the basement, where Harlan is still suffering.  
  
Diego doesn’t know how to answer that. Although the hand that takes his own is comforting, his gaze flickers between the body it belongs to and the space Lila had been occupying. It wasn’t an easy decision to just let her go, even after all she’d put their family through. She was one of them, she’d been manipulated her entire life, and Diego truly felt for her. He wasn’t lying to her when he said they could be her family, but he understood her decision for wanting to run. He’d been the same way. 

Still, his eyes are sad as he finally lifts his gaze to meet Five’s. Lila had used him, but he had actually liked her, and with the uncertainty of whether she’ll be back or not, all Diego can do is give Five’s hand a hard squeeze and nod his head. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and leaves it at that. He’s tired and his ankle hurts, but he’ll be fine. Their family is fine and that’s what really matters, but there’s something behind Five’s eyes that Diego can’t quite place. It makes him take a small step closer, his brows furrowing together. “Are you?”

Five knows the answer is no. After more than two straight weeks of this crap, there's not a stitch or scrap left of him that's _okay_. He's exhausted, he's angry, he's sad, he's scared, and for the fourth time in his life he had to watch the man he loves more than life itself die in front of his eyes. He'll be surprised if he ever sleeps soundly again in his life. He also knows that whatever soft, vulnerable part of him that feels like it's cracking apart right now would never let itself be known, not now, not with so much of their family still nearby, even if they've all run down to the basement of the barn to deal with Harlan.

But he also knows that if he says he is okay, Diego will see right through it. He's too good at reading him, too clever for his own good. Even this Diego, who has spent so much less time with Five than his own had, seems to have an inherent, instinctive understanding of Five. Maybe that's why they were so good together. Maybe that's why they find each other again and again. First as children in the academy, then in the wastes, and now like this. Three separate lifetimes they've stumbled back into one another.

Maybe they didn't fall in love because they were the only two people left on earth. Maybe they were the only two people left on earth _because_ they were in love. 

He answers softly, "I will be," like a promise, and squeezes Diego's hand.

Diego accepts that answer without complaint. It’s honest, it doesn’t worry him, and he knows that as long as they have each other, it would be true. He doesn’t care where they are, whether it’s 2019, 1963, or wherever they end up next, as long as Five is by his side. 

He looks over his shoulder, the main level of the barn empty except for the Handler’s body and them, before he lets go of Five’s hand in favor of pulling him in for a hug. His arms loop around his shoulders, dragging Five against his chest, his chin coming to rest on the top of Five’s head. It’s a moment that any of their siblings could walk in on, but it’s just a hug, and although neither of them were one to show so much physical affection, the circumstances are understandable. 

“Yeah,” he finally agrees, his voice coming out a little more choked than he wanted it to and he wraps his arms around him tighter in response. “I know.”

Five stands there in that embrace, comfortably held, comfortably close. His nose buried against Diego's chest, breathing in his scent, his arms wrapped around his back and sinking against his bulk. He can feel his heart beating, he knows he's alive. They have one more lifetime together, after this is all said and done. 

The only thing that has him pulling away from Diego is the sound of their siblings coming back upstairs. Sissy is holding Harlan, unconscious against her chest, and Vanya leaves the barn right alongside her. Five sticks his hands in his pockets, kicks a bit of hay onto the Handler just for the pleasure of it, and shuffles outside with the rest. He squints up at the sky, where the stormclouds are clearing and the snow has finally settled across the autumn grass, squinting at the sky. 

It's dizzying, to think that their mission is over. He doesn't know exactly how they're going to get home yet, but at least now they have the time to try. The government might be after them, but that's nothing they can't handle. They can have the luxury at last of being able to worry about how they're getting home. 

With his family at his back, he looks up when he feels a hand come down on his shoulder, expecting to see Diego, but instead it's Klaus at his side, who offers him a crooked little smirk before asking, "So what's the deal with the weird old guy who's been following you around?"

Five squints. "What?"

"The old guy," Klaus points at thin air. "Kinda scraggly, beard, missing an eye. I saw him back at the house before you dumped us back in time, I thought he was just some rando. But he followed you here."  
  
Five feels his heart plunge into his stomach. All at once he remembers the vision he'd had while he laid in the barn dying. He'd thought he was being beckoned by his late husband to cross over to the other side to join him, but-- he whips around to look, as if he could just see a ghost standing there, his eyes wide and teeth grit. He's frantic enough that even Vanya pauses on her way into the house, while Sissy keeps moving inside to get Harlan laid down somewhere comfortable. 

"Where is he?" Five asks, his voice cracking. "Klaus I can't see him--"

Diego's standing on the other side of Five, his attention was fixated on the unconscious kid in Sissy's arms, but as soon as he hears the manic crackle of emotion in Five's voice, his head turns toward him, catching the desperate, frantic expression on his face as he looks around. He catches Klaus' eye for a moment, who looks just as confused as he does, the smirk that originally painted his face quickly fading. 

"Well, yeah, you're not the one that can see dead people." Klaus says, a weak attempt at a comforting joke, but it doesn't seem to calm Five any less. He watches Diego's hand settle on Five's back before his gaze flickers to the old ghost standing in front of them and he motions in that direction. "But he's right there. You wanna talk to him?"

" _Now_ , Klaus," Five whips back around to face Klaus, grabbing him by his long coat and yanking him down to his level like he wants to rip him in half.

"Jesus, shit, okay, _okay_ ," Klaus grabs him by the wrists, trying to pry his hands off his coat. "I already offered."

Five turns around, wiping his hands on his blazer, running a hand through his hair as Klaus's hands glow blue and tremble. There's a flicker in front of Five, but it doesn't stick. Klaus shakes his hands out, bounces on the balls of his feet for a moment, claps his hands together, and then tries again.

This time, the glowing blue figure of a man appears in front of them all. He's bulky, wearing heavy layers of tattered clothing, with a scruffy beard and a shaved head, his right eye socket stitched shut and scarred over and the right side of his dented in slightly. He looks like an old traveler or even like a pirate, but Five seems to recognize him.

He takes a step back with a sharp intake of breath, covering his mouth with both hands. He forgets that everyone else is standing around him, forgets the rest of his family's eyes at his back as he takes a single step forward with a breathless gasp of,

"Diego."

For a brief moment, Diego thinks Five is talking to him, but his eyes are fixated on the glowing figure in front of them and as he takes a step forward, he realizes he's addressing the ghost. Diego's brows furrow together, his heart suddenly moving up his chest, lodging itself uncomfortably in his throat and even when he swallows, it stays there. 

He looks at the ghost, too afraid to take a step closer as he studies him - the long scar that traces the line above his right ear, the one in his eyebrow above his left eye, the tattered harness strapped underneath a heavy jacket with the glimmer of a knife hanging off his hip, and a peak of a familiar tattoo on his inner wrist as the old man reaches a hand out to Five and whispers his name. 

He's looking in a mirror, an alternate version of himself that is somehow both so recognizable and unrecognizable staring back at him and suddenly, Diego feels overwhelmed, his legs leading him out of the barn without a second thought as his heart works its way further up his throat, threatening to spill from his mouth.

"What... are we looking at?" Allison whispers, taking a step closer to Luther. 

"That's _Diego?"_ Luther looks from the ghost over to his brother. "But _that's_ Diego."

Five doesn't hear any of them as he takes another step forward, too afraid to move too quickly, afraid the illusion will break if he does. He swallows hard, his chest heaving with shallow, unsteady breaths. He reaches out unsteadily to take that hand, afraid to pass right through it, but his hand makes contact with the glowing apparition and takes hold, squeezing around his palm. 

"Fifteen years," he says hoarsely, the others forgotten, his entire awareness narrowed down to a single pinprick, like the entire world itself had shrunk down to only be big enough for the two of them. "Have you been following me all this time?"

Diego pushes past Allison and Luther, his shoulder colliding with his brother's almost painfully, but his head is clouded with too many thoughts to really feel it until he makes it towards the porch of the farmhouse, collapsing onto the front steps and dropping his head into his hands, fingers tugging hard at his own hair as if to test if he's really here or not. 

The ghost curls his cold fingers around Five's warm hand, no longer as rough as they once had been. He never expected to be able to talk to him again, long ago accepting the fact that he'd watch him live out the rest of his life from a distance, content to wait for him. He nods, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I've always been here," he tells him in his quiet, deep voice.

Five feels like his throat is being squeezed from the outside, like there's a hand coiled around his neck cutting off his breath. He should have known that Diego wouldn't have moved on without him, he should have _known_ he would have tirelessly followed him to the ends of the earth. If he'd been the one to die first, he knows he would have done the same thing. 

"You're an idiot," his voice breaks, small and betraying him, the same way his body has at every opportunity it gets. "Why didn't you move on when you had the chance? What if you're _stuck_ here now?"

"Five, can you explain?" Luther asks desperately, only to be completely ignored by the older man, who doesn't take his eyes off the ghost in front of him.

The ghost smiles at Five, an expression that looks more like a grimace to everybody else as it contorts his already disfigured face, but it’s a smile that Five would recognize, one that he hadn’t been able to give him in fifteen years. “I wasn’t going anywhere without you,” he says, his hand squeezing Five’s again. 

All he’d known had been a life with Five. When he died, he couldn’t imagine an afterlife without him, so he’d stuck around. He didn’t think of the consequences, if he could possibly be stuck there, or if Five would live longer now that he was stuck in the body of his younger self, but he didn’t care. Being able to share this moment with Five made it all worth it. 

Klaus glances between his siblings and the ghost when Luther’s words go ignored again, then towards where Diego is still sitting with his head in his hands on the steps of the house. He wants to give them space, but he can’t linger too far or the ghost would fade and letting Five have this conversation is the least he could do, after everything Five had done for them. “Just let him explain later,” he tells Luther quietly as he comes to stand beside him.

"You're so _stupid_ ," Five's voice chokes up, another betrayal, but this time he can't even blame it on his body. He would have felt like crying even if he hadn't changed. After everything he's been through, watching his lover die four times, seeing him again like this is almost more than he can bear. To think he's been there the whole time, through his work with the Commission, the way they _changed_ him, to think Diego had to see all of that-- it chokes him up worse than anything. He grits his teeth to try and keep hold of his resolve, but he can feel it quickly slipping. "You just couldn't get enough of me, could you?"

This version of Diego knows Five better than anyone, knows that telltale look in his eyes as he struggles to keep his emotions in check, the way his lip slowly begins to tremble. He may have watched Five be stripped of all his emotions over and over again, but he knows that they're still there, and there's no reason to hide them again him. 

"Never," he says softly, his free hand coming up to rest on Five's shoulder, a cold glowing blue hand settling on a small and sharp clavicle. He doesn't look like the man he'd married anymore, but the boy that had saved from dying alone. "You were there for me, I wanted to be here for you."

Five finally breaks eye contact with the ghost to look over his shoulder at where Diego has collapsed onto the porch of the house, his head hanging in his hands, and a stab of guilt takes him. He'd never found the time to tell Diego about this, maybe if he's tried harder to find the time, maybe if he'd been less worried about getting into his pants when he saw him again at Elliot's apartment-- but what's done is done, the past is the past. He's not about to go back and change things now, not when they've arrived at the best possible conclusion that they could have. 

He looks back at the ghost towering over him, his expression conflicted. "Diego," he murmurs, reaching up to touch his face. It's cold, but it's solid under his hand, and he runs his fingers through the ghost's beard, touching the comforting, springy curls there. It's a texture he never thought he'd feel again. "You _know_ I love you. But I have to take care of you. Of _you_." He looks back over his shoulder again, at Diego's collapsed form on the porch, slumped in on itself.

The ghost’s eyes slip shut for a moment as Five’s hand cups his face, a feeling he never expected to feel again. He savors it, knowing he most likely won’t experience it again after this. His eyes slowly open again, following Five’s gaze towards where the living version of himself is sitting. 

He’s silent for a moment, remembering all the times over the past two weeks where he’d wished Five could see him, or at least hear him, when he’d been yelling, _begging_ for Five to stop fighting with him. The only time it worked had been when he’d smacked the coffee cup off the table, but even then, Five hadn’t realized it was him. He was happy to see them getting along, but it still tugged at his heart as the realization set in that Five was letting go of him and taking hold of his alternate counterpart. 

“I know,” he finally says, his eyes meeting Five’s again as his hand slides from his shoulder towards his chest, settling over his heart. “He needs you more than I do.”

"You'll see me again," Five says, firm in this declaration. Wherever it is that ghosts go, he knows he'll go there someday too. To think he might have _two_ version of Diego with him at the time is dizzying, and so he doesn't think about it. He lifts the ghost's hand from his chest and kisses his ring finger, right over the thin, faded line tattooed across the skin there, matching his own, given by himself drunk and in haste. He'll have to get someone to go over it a little cleaner, for Diego's sake.

He looks up at the ghost with grief and love in his eyes, and takes another step forward. He doesn't care that his family's eyes are all on him, he doesn't care that they're watching him as he closes the distance between himself and the ghost. For a moment, the blue glow of the spirit's form overtakes Five, swirling around him and folding him up within its light like a winter coat. And in that moment, Five changes. 

The glow consumes him within and without, and his appearance shifts before his family's eyes. Coiled around him, it manifests the glowing blue form of another old man, overlaid on top of the young Five like one photograph layered on top of another, with a matching beard and long hair, dressed in similar survival gear, and his family finally puts two and two together. The two old men embrace chest to chest, squeezing the life and breath out of one another, as pieces of Diego's ghost begin to peel off of him like white butterflies, drifting off into the sky. 

"I'll find you on the other side," Five swears, his voice deep and low and gravelly as his hands curl behind the other ghost's head, and he gives him a fierce kiss with all the promises he doesn't have the time to make written into it.

Diego, still sitting on the steps, slowly lifts his head from his hands as the blue light grows stronger even from where he’s sitting across the field. He just watches, the scene tugging at his already conflicted heart as the older version of himself begins to fade, taking the other figure with him, leaving only a faint white trail in their wake that disappears as soon as it hits the ground. 

For a moment, no one says anything. The silence that falls between them is deafening, pounding in Diego’s ears loud enough to give him a migraine, or maybe it was just a side-effect from the realizations hitting him all at once. Either way, his head is throbbing, along with his ankle, and he still feels like the world around him is spinning too fast for him to keep up with, so he doesn’t dare move from his spot. 

It’s Klaus that breaks the silence first, a man familiar with what it’s like to lose a loved one and manifest them again, who recognizes the grief on Five’s face, and puts aside the fact that he’d just watched his brother kiss another version of his other brother, because that’s not what’s important here. It’s making sure that Five is alright. He takes a small step forward, a hand outstretched to Five, but after a second thought, he pulls it back. “Five?” He asks quietly instead, glancing over his shoulder at Allison and Luther before his attention returns to the other man.

Five doesn't hear Klaus. His eyes are wet as the last wisps of blue light leave him standing there again as a young boy, vulnerable and small and physically weak. He swallows hard, his throat dry and scratching, and when he blinks, the tears run rivers down his cheeks. His joints fail him, his clenched muscles release, and he drops down into the snow on his bare knees. It's a heartbreaking display of vulnerability from their usually stone-cold brother, who's never shown weakness or softness in front of them until now. He covers his face with both hands and takes several long, deep breaths that shake in his lungs to try and calm himself down. 

Five times. _Five_ times now, he's watched Diego leave him. He's starting to wonder how many times he's going to have to watch Diego go before it breaks him completely. 

"Go, go," Allison whispers, pushing on Klaus and Luther's chests, shoving them both towards the farmhouse, and she looks up at where Diego is just staring at the boy across from them, collapsed in the snow with grief. "Just give them a minute."

Diego just watches as Five collapses into the ground, his heart twisting painfully where it had settled back in his chest and he wants to move, to cross the field and drop to his knees beside him, pull him into his arms and tell him everything will be alright, but he still can’t find it in him to stand. 

The rest of his siblings come closer, Allison’s gaze practically drilling holes into him, and Diego avoids their eyes, except for when a hand lands on his shoulder and he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Allison’s. He almost wishes she would just rumor him to get up, but the hand gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and suddenly, she’s leaning over him, whispering in a voice that Diego normally finds off-putting, but now finds comfort in it. “Go on,” she tells him, and even though it’s not a rumor, he still listens to it. 

As they disappear inside the house, Diego makes his way towards Five, hesitating a few feet away from him, unsure what to say or do. He isn’t even sure if Five wants this version of him, or if it’s just because he can’t have the one he’d grown to know. Still, Five is crying, a sight that Diego is still so unfamiliar with, and he crouches down in front of him in the snow, a hand coming to rest on an exposed knee. “Hey,” he murmurs, willing Five to look at him. “Five?”

Five's head snaps up to look at Diego, his eyes wet and weary. He doesn't think he's ever been this tired in his life. Losing Diego the first time hadn't hurt this bad. Maybe it's all the times he's had to watch it happen compounding on one another, like straw being laid over the camel's back. Or maybe it's because there had been witnesses this time, and the first time he'd been alone in the world to scream as loud as he wanted and nobody could hear him. 

He leans up onto his knees and throws his arms around Diego's neck. He buries his face against his shoulder, taking long, measured breaths that stick and shudder in his chest, trying to force himself to stop crying. He's a fucking assassin, he's an adult man, he's a wanted criminal and a mass murderer, he shouldn't be _crying_ in the snow in school boy shorts. 

"I was going to tell you," he says softly, his voice croaky and broken.

Diego nearly stumbles back from the force that Five throws himself at him with, one hand catching them from completely falling backwards into the snow while the other wraps around Five, pulling him in close. He’s sitting in the snow, but he doesn’t care. He just drags Five closer, letting him fill the space between his legs as he holds him. 

Part of him is mad, another part of him confused, and another curious, a million questions running through his mind, but he forgets all of them when he hears just how broken Five sounds. He can’t be mad at him when he’s so torn apart, all he can do is hold him tight and give him the comfort he’s so desperately craving. 

“When?” He asks quietly, but it’s not an accusation, there’s no underlying tone of anger, just curiosity as his hands curl into the fabric of Five’s jacket.

"I was going to tell you once we were home," he says, pulling back to run his fingers through Diego's long hair. "I wanted to tell you so many times, I kept talking myself out of it, and then you met Lila and I got angry and mean and _stupid_. You've always made me stupid. I wanted to let you find someone new, but once you did I couldn't stand to watch you love someone else. I can't live without you, Diego-- please, _please_ don't ask me to."

Diego pulls back fromFive, just enough to look at him. He searches Five’s face as he rambles until the other man is begging for him, and the thought of not being with him hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d spent 17 years without Five. He didn’t want to add another second to that. 

“ _Hey_ ,” he murmurs, his voice firm enough to cut through Five’s as one of his hands comes up to cup the other’s cheeks, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Hey, Five. I’m _not_ , alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

Five is dizzy with relief, overexerted and emotionally weary. He doubts he could have taken another blow, and though he feared it could come there wasn't a genuine thought in his mind that Diego would actually reject him. Maybe it was arrogance, or maybe he just knew the bond between them was too strong to break, but he knew Diego wouldn't turn away from him. He leans into the younger man again, winding his arms around his neck. His knees are going numb in the snow, but he would sooner lose both his legs than let go of Diego now. 

"Glad to hear it," he says with a pained, tired laugh. "I think I could do another thirty years if you've got it in you."

Diego’s arms loop back around Five’s waist as he slumps against him again, but it’s not as frantic or as desperate as before. It’s comforting on both ends, each of them finding solace in each other after everything they’ve been through. Diego doesn’t believe in fate, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks maybe they were meant to end up like this. 

A weak smile tugs at the corners of his lips, arms tightening around Five. “What, I’m only worth thirty?” He asks, but there’s a teasing tone to his voice. There’s still a lot he wants to ask Five, more he needs to know about the version of himself that vanished into thin air, but for now, he’s content to sit here, even if the snow is beginning to seep through his pants and their siblings are watching them out the window.

"Maybe forty, if I'm not sick of you by then," Five teases right back with a wet laugh, turning to rub his face against the side of Diego's neck. He doesn't know if one little body can stand this many warring emotions within in at once. Grief over losing _Diego_ again, relief over getting him right back moments later, anguish over not realizing that his husband had been following him all this time, grief over the understanding of everything his husband witnessed him turn into. He's reminded of the way this Diego said that his husband would be ashamed to see what he'd become, and it aches like a cold knife in his heart. He just wants to lay down and sleep for a very long time, but they have more work to do before they can get there. 


	15. Chapter 15

It's Dot and Herb, of all people, who pull through in the end to take Five and his family home. Vanya had just slaughtered the entirety of the corrections division in one fell swoop, and with Herb acting as de-facto leader in the meantime, Five can rest assured that the Commission isn't about to come banging down their door any time soon. Lila might show her face again, but Five isn't worried. If anything, he thinks she'll just be absorbed into the family. 

The briefcase takes them home, bringing them back to the academy, the day after the apocalypse. Their home is standing, if empty, their mother and Pogo still blessedly alive and their father still, thankfully, dead. With the crisis averted, Five feels the pang of a job well done. A job more than forty years in the making, for him, and it's finally... over. He hadn't bothered to think about what would come after. 

There was a part of him that wanted never to be done. The nebulous nature of having no mission feels like a weight he can't shake, but he knows at the very least he doesn't have to move forward alone.  
  
It doesn't take long for the team to break apart again, just a matter of an hour, really. They know it won't be permanent this time, everyone already planning their return trips to the family home. Nobody wants to be separated again, it's high time they all live under the same roof, just like before. Allison takes Luther with her to go see Claire, while Vanya splits off to go settle her apartment so she can move back into the house. Klaus breaks off to go god knows where (though Five can only assume it has something to do with him mourning Ben) which leaves Diego and Five in the house alone-- and it's almost overwhelming. 

To be alone with him again, when he knows Diego will have so many questions, to think that he might have to rehash thirty years of intricate history... he wouldn't even know where to begin. But he knows it owes it to Diego, and so he lights a fire in the main hall, sits back on the high-backed sofa to wait, with his blazer and vest off, his tie undone around a loosely unbuttoned collar, and his shoes abandoned on the floor. The least he deserves at this point is to be comfortably undressed.  
  
The house that once felt so hallowed and haunted to Diego now feels comforting as he stands in his childhood bedroom, already planning his move back. He’s not giving up on the boxing gym, but he never liked his shitty boiler room apartment that much in the first place. He belongs here, and even though it’s just him and Five at the moment, except for wherever Grace and Pogo are, he feels at home with his family for the first time in a long time. 

He shuts the light off as he leaves the room, deciding that moving is a project for another day. He wants to relax, to let both his ankle and his side heal, and to spend this quiet moment with Five, who he finds relaxing in the living room. He wanders to the bar and grabs two glasses, pouring a serving of bourbon into each one, something to warm them up, even though the other’s presence is good enough. 

Diego takes a seat on the couch next to Five, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he holds a glass out to him. He waits for him to take it, then clinks his glass against Five’s and takes a sip. “Alright.” He finally says, after the burn fades from his throat and he looks towards Five. “I have a _ton_ of questions, but I just need one answered right now.”  
  
"Fair enough," Five answers, his feet tucked up beside him. It's been a while since he's been able to take his shoes off and relax, and just being able to flex his toes without leather constricting them is a godsend. It really is the little things. He's sitting a comfortable distance from Diego, and though he wants to close the distance, there's just that tight sliver of hesitancy within him that has him keeping put, at the very least until Diego asks his question.  
  
Diego holds his glass in his lap, his thumb gently tracing over the rim as he looks between it and Five, but his gaze flickers down to the hastily-done line tattooed on his ring finger for a brief moment. “You said he—“ He cuts himself off to correct himself, something he still needs to get used to. “I... you said _I_ never remembered anything from my life before you found me, right?” He doesn’t let Five answer before he continues, shifting his gaze up to meet his eyes. “Did you ever tell me about what we had when we were younger?”  
  
"No," Five answers quietly after a moment, staring into the fire. "I never even told him we were brothers. He figured it out all on his own. I didn't want to influence any of his memories, create any false ones or push him too hard and injure him-- if they were going to trickle back, I wanted it to be organic. They never did. His right frontal lobe was smashed in, he basically got lobotomized when the academy fell in on him."

He glances back up at Diego. "You don't have to say he's you, if it makes it easier. Technically he isn't, in a sense. He's a version of you that will never exist, now that we've saved the world." He sounds sad as he says it, dropping mournful eyes back down to his glass.  
  
Diego nods slowly, both in response to the answer Five gave him and the permission to not refer to the man that Five knew as himself. He’ll never become him, probably for the best, as he’s happy keeping both his eyes and his memories, but also because it’s an opportunity to give Five a happier, better chance at this, one that Diego will actually be around for. 

“So, how’d he figure it out?” He asks after a moment, even though he said he’d only ask one question. He can’t help himself, he’s curious, and Five seems willing to talk about it.  
  
Five smiles very slightly to himself, he can't help it. "That first year, when he was in recovery, when he couldn't speak-- I told him a lot of things. Most of which he didn't remember. He had severe brain damage, he couldn't sit up or eat on his own, I had to do everything for him. I had no reason to believe he could understand a word I was saying, he was practically a mannequin. But he retained a few things from that time-- his own name, for one, but he remembered that I called the ruins of the manor _our_ home."

He traces his thumb around the rim of his glass before raising it for another sip, and a sigh. "He was always a smart man, even without his memories," he says fondly, letting his head fall back against the cushions. "He put it together, over the next couple of years. Little things I would say, little hints I would give. Scraps of scraps of memories. There was never any grand reveal, one day over dinner he just asked me. I think I was... I must have been nineteen. We were eating in silence and he asked me if he could ask a question, and if I would answer honestly. I promised I would, and he asked me if we were family, before everything. I told him we were family _now_ , but he didn't like that answer. So he said-- Five, just tell me straight. Have I been fucking my brother?" his small smile splits into a grin. "I asked him if it would change anything if he was, and he said _I guess that's my answer_ and went right back to eating. Twenty minutes later he railed me face down on our bedroll."  
  
It’s slightly jarring for Diego to hear these details from Five, especially how casually he talks about them. He knows he’s had forty-five years to process it all, but to Diego it’s new information and he slowly raises his glass to his lips to take another swig. 

Still, a quiet laugh spills from his lips as Five continues with the lighter part of the story. It sounded like something he’d say, a gentle reminder that they weren’t the same exact person, but there were some things that could never be stripped from someone. 

“He was lucky to have you,” he says after a moment, his eyes falling to Five again. He didn’t think just anybody would be willing to nurse a man in that condition back to health, and although this Diego will never know what it’s like to be cared for like that, he’s glad his alternate self had been in good hands up until the day he died.  
  
"Why do you ask?" Five looks back up at Diego, his eyes softer than his brother has seen them in a while. Being safe for the first time in-- basically his entire life will do that to a man, Five justifies. He's allowed to be just a little bit soft right now. "Why was _that_ your burning question?"  
  
Truthfully, Diego doesn’t know. there were other questions he could have asked, but for the moment, he’s content with the information he knows. He doesn’t feel like he’s meant to know more - it wasn’t his experience to live, so Diego will sit in comfortable ignorance until he needs to know something else. “Just curious,” he answers, giving his shoulders a shrug along with it as he catches Five’s eye. The way he’s looking at him makes Diego smile, a more genuine smile than he thinks he’s given in a while, and he feels warm, safe, and relaxed in the company of his brother.  
  
"Just curious," Five repeats, skeptical but playful. "Alright, then. Keep your secrets."

Five reaches out to take Diego's glass from him, and leans forward to set them both on the coffee table before he swings a leg over Diego's thighs to sit on his lap. He runs his hands into his hair, pushing it back away from his face and digging his fingers against his scalp, lazily scratching against his roots. It feels so nice to sink his hands into his waves, to have his fingers curled and caressed by the soft tresses. It feels intimate in a way he never thought he'd get with Diego again, in a way he's still reeling over. Diego leans back into the couch when Five starts to climb into his lap, one hand settling on the other man’s thigh while the other fits into the curve where his hip meets his waist. His eyes fall shut almost instantly as Five’s fingers drag through his hair and he can’t hold back the content sound that falls from his lips.

"If you were trying to ask me whether I coerced your brain-damaged counterpart into sleeping with me, you should know that _he_ came on to _me_ the first time," Five says, running the tip of his nose along the line of Diego's jaw. "At the nubile age of 17, no less. You _dog_."  
  
Diego laughs quietly and opens his eyes again so he can look at Five again, his fingers pressing firmly into his waist. “I wasn’t, but I’m not surprised,” he says, leaning his head back against the backrest of the couch. “Once a dog, always a dog, right? You look 13 right now and I’ve still got you in my lap. I don’t think that’s any better.”  
  
"No, it's _much_ worse," Five agrees, leaning up on his knees to kiss Diego. It's not a very hard kiss-- not yet, at least-- Five wants to take his time. The kiss they shared in the bathroom was interrupted by Luther, and then the kiss they shared in Elliot's living room was interrupted by Vanya, but this time they're alone in the house. There's nothing to get in the way, no interruptions to fear. He doubts highly either Pogo or Grace are going to come trotting into the living room at close to midnight, so there's nothing to stop Five from taking his time. 

He explores Diego's mouth languidly, lips dragging against wet lips, laying chest to chest. His hands tighten a bit in Diego's hair, pulling his head back to the perfect angle for him to kneel up all the way and pour himself into Diego's mouth. He sucks his lower lip, flicks his tongue between his teeth and then finally seals his mouth against the other man's to grind his tongue against Diego's where it belongs. It's not a frantic kiss, but it's rich and sensual in the take-your-time kind of way they haven't been able to indulge in.  
  
Diego leans his back into the couch, his spine arching with the curve of it as Five presses into him, their bodies fitting so perfectly together. He wraps his hand around Five’s thigh, his middle finger and thumb almost brushing and the thought alone just makes Diego press his fingers harder into the exposed skin between his shorts and his socks as his other hand stays on his waist. 

Five is looming over him in this position, forcing his head back to change the angle, but Diego is pliable in his hands, finding it hard to protest when Five is both tugging on his hair that way and sucking on his lower lip and so he meets Five with earnest. 

His lips part easily for Five, and with it spills a quiet groan as the other man controls the kiss, their tongues sliding together in a rhythm that feels too perfect to be natural. It’s a change from the other two kisses they’ve shared and the tender, tentative ones of their childhood, but Diego likes that this one is a combination of them, filled with accompanying words that neither of them need to say to understand, words that he slowly begins to forget as he grazes his teeth over Five’s lower lip.  
  
Five's body betrays him again, as it's so fond of doing. Heat boils in his stomach like lava from a simple kiss, spreading throughout his body. It aches in his thigh under Diego's hand, his muscles flexing beneath his palm and fingers as if daring him to squeeze harder, and blood pools south so fast it leaves him light headed when Diego moans. The seal of the kiss is broken and he mouths wetly across his jaw to his throat, taking his sweet time exploring that muscular column with his lips and teeth. 

"Nobody's going to walk in on us this time," he's panting, his voice hoarse and rough. He releases Diego's hair with one hand, pulling his head to the side with the one still buried to the roots, and then yanks on his shirt collar with the other to find the bite mark he'd left there just the other day. It's turned a handsome purple on his skin, bruised in a pretty ring of teeth that their siblings definitely would have asked questions about if he hadn't covered it with his shirt. Unable to resist, he lines his teeth back up with the bite and presses them in to send that deep, throbbing ache through Diego's shoulder and down his chest. 

His hips involuntary jerk forward, his groin rubbing against the larger man's abs, and he groans throaty and earnest. The texture of Diego's skin alone under his tongue is enough to make him melt.  
  
The noise that falls from Diego’s lips as Five’s mouth finds the bruise he’d left earlier is louder than the last, coming from the back of his throat as his head tips back against the backrest. “ _Fuck_ , Five...” He encourages as he grips his waist tight, his other hand slowly unwrapping itself from around Five’s thigh in favor of sliding it up the back of his leg, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of his shorts. 

His skin is soft beneath his touch, untouched and pale and begging for Diego to slide his hand as far up his shorts as it will go, chasing the warmth coming from him. He pushes his hand up further, his fingers curling towards his inner thigh where just his fingertips brush over his briefs. 

His free hand presses Five into his chest, feeling just how hard the other man is already through both layers of their clothes. Briefly, he wonders how many times he could draw Five over the edge in one round, especially if his hand on his stomach had been enough to do it last time. It’s a thought he tucks away for another time and instead tilts his head down, his lips connecting with the corner of Five’s jaw, pressing a wet kiss there before trailing them up to his ear, hoping to draw another groan out of him.  
  
It's embarrassing how hard Five is this fast. He has to remind himself that Diego is understanding of his body's limitations, that he knows and he doesn't care, but he's still flushed up to his ears in shame as his hips jerk forward again, grinding against Diego's hard stomach. He breaks the seal with his teeth and licks at the fresh indentations, before his hands drop to Diego's harnesses to peel them off over his shoulders and arms again. His knives hit the ground with a heavy thunk, and he wastes no time in fitting his hands under Diego's shirt to lift that up and off his head as well. 

He rakes his hands down the younger man's body, sinking his fingers into his pectoral muscles on both sides, cupping and squeezing and greedy, pushing them together and admiring the cleavage he's able to create. His thighs are aching from tensing for so long, and so he grabs Diego by the back of the neck with a command of "Down," spoken firmly and with no room for argument. He guides Diego down to lay on his back on the sofa and perches on his lap, reaching up to pull his loosened tie the rest of the way off, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. The command lights a fire in the pit of Diego’s stomach, and he doesn’t fight it. He lets Five push him down and the thrill that comes with it should have embarrassed Diego. He hated being told what to do, but when Five does it, it makes his cock twitch in his pants as his back hits the sofa. 

"How is this doing?" Five asks, gently running a fingertip over the scar in Diego's side, where he'd been stabbed by Reginald, once his shirt is hanging open around his skinny frame. "Still hurts?" As if he's one to talk, with his bruised ribs and still-healing bullet wound, still so recent the stitches haven't even come out. They both look like a damn mess, the last few fights really did a number on them.

Diego stares up at him, at the line of his exposed chest from where his shirt still sits on his shoulders and Diego slowly reaches his hands up, beginning to push it off of him until Five’s finger brushes over the scar in his side and he shivers involuntarily. “It’s fine,” he murmurs truthfully. It ached here and there, but whatever Lila did to patch him up seemed to work. 

He looks back at Five’s chest, his own fingers gently tracing over a large bruise on his ribs and he frowns. “What about you?” he asks, his gaze flickering up to Five’s face, looking for an honest answer. Even though Diego doesn’t want to this go unfinished for a third time, he needs to make sure Five’s alright, if anything just so he knows what kind of tone to set.  
  
"It's fine," Five echoes. It's mostly just a twinge now and then, and it's not like there are casts for cracked ribs. It'll heal on its own, it's not his first time with rib trauma, he knows the way it goes. He lets Diego push his shirt off his shoulders, but it pools around his elbows, hanging across his back like a shawl. He feels insurmountably scrawny compared to the other man, something which simultaneously thrills and embarrasses him, but the way Diego is looking at him helps. 

He rolls his hips in a circle, popping the button of his shorts and pulling down the zipper, but pauses. If this is going to be their first time together again since everything, he doesn't want it to be a dirty romp on the sofa, he wants to be able to spread out and relax afterwards. He considers jumping them both to Diego's room, but the younger man _really_ seems to hate the process of jumping, and the last thing he wants to do is ruin the mood and put an end to things again. 

So he lays down chest to chest with Diego and threads his fingers into his hair again, biting his earlobe as he says, "Carry me to your bedroom." While normally he would never allow himself the indignity of being _carried_ , because it would only reinforce the unfortunate reality of his vulnerable situation, in this case he's willing to make an exception.  
  
Both the feeling of Five’s breath hot on his ear and his teeth tugging at his earlobe have Diego arching up into him. It’s another command that Diego can’t say no to, so he wraps his arms around Five, plants his feet firmly on the ground and carefully lifts Five. 

He weighs nearly nothing, just skin and bones that wrap tightly around his waist and neck as Diego’s arms support him underneath his legs and the thrill that Diego gets from it shouldn’t excite him as much as it does, a testament to just how small Five really is. He takes Five to his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them, even though nobody else is home. 

He sets Five down on the edge of his bed, unhooking his legs from around his waist as he takes the moment to kick off his boots. He places a knee on the bed, guiding Five to lay back, but he’s already positive the other man is planning to move them, and when he does, Diego won’t put up a fight.  
  
For now, Five lets Diego climb on top of him, spreading his legs around his hips and running his hands over his chest and stomach. He feels every scar and blemish on his skin, mapping out the ones that are familiar to him, the ones that his Diego had. It strikes him in the chest that this _is_ his Diego, and a fresh wave of emotion surges through him. Rather than let himself get swept up in it, he stuffs it down into the rest of his nostalgia where it belongs, kept safely out of eyeshot, and opens Diego's belt. 

"You're going to _fuck me_ tonight," he commands as he parts the leather and pulls down the fly of his pants, his tone is almost imperious, like it's fated that they're finally going to consummate the tension that's been growing for the past two weeks. He wedges a small hand down Diego's pants to grab him by the package through his underwear. He's more than acquainted with the size and heft of Diego's equipment, but with his hand smaller than usual, it feels _bigger_ than he remembers.  
  
Diego hovers over Five, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, one hand pressing into Five’s chest, the other bracing himself on the bed as Five’s fingers unzip his pants with ease. His lips find Five’s jaw again, just as he says those words and his low groan spills right into Five’s ear. 

It’s a command that Diego would never dream of arguing with. Months of tentative dry-humping and hesitant over-the-clothes touches in dark bedrooms growing up never amounted to this in his mind. Five was a childhood crush, but here, looking at him laid out half-naked below him, he had never been only that. 

“Yeah,” Diego agrees, his own voice sounding thick in his ears, and it turns into another groan when Five’s hand slips into his pants and wraps around him. “ _Fuck_...” It hadn’t even been that long since somebody touched him like this, less than a week in fact, but it already felt so different, scratching an itch that Diego didn’t know he couldn’t reach.  
  
Five can't help but let out a breathy chuckle at the way Diego's entire brain shut down at the simplest touch. He squeezes the younger man's package like he's working a stress ball, grinding the heel of his hand against the base of his cock, measuring him as it fills out in the cramped space inside his pants, shared with Five's hand. He guides Diego's head to rest against his shoulder, and runs his other hand up the strong planes of Diego's back, feeling along the grooves of his deep-set muscles. 

Diego really is gorgeous, something Five often stupidly overlooks. He'd been with him for so long that things as petty as appearance often fell to the back of his mind in favor of protection, mission and intent. But when he takes a step back to just appreciate the view, he's blown away each and every time. He hovers on top of him like a heavy jungle cat, skin rippling over muscles that shift every time he so much as takes a breath. He looks like the sun, and Five could watch him forever. 

He shoves Diego's pants and underwear down his hips with both hands, and raises one of his hands to Diego's face with another command, this time just "Lick." When Diego complies, he rubs his hands together so they're both damp, and then he reaches down with both hands to touch Diego again. Wrapped up in the cage of his body, with his arms and legs propped up on him on both sides, Five feels safer than he's felt in a long time, a feeling which is warm and lazy and soft compared to the fire that rips through him as soon as he makes contact with Diego's skin properly. He holds and toys with his balls in one hand, stroking the soft seam in the middle with his thumb, while the other hand drags a long, tight line down his length, pulling his foreskin back so he can play with the silky, damp head. 

His head tips back with an almost clinical, faraway expression as he watches Diego's reactions, the way his brow furrows and his jaw flexes, cataloging every expression and overwriting past memories with new ones.  
  
Diego drops his head down onto Five’s shoulder as a slick hand wraps around him. It’s a hand that’s smaller than any other one he’s ever had on him and with any new partner, he expects there to be an awkward moment of fumbling, but with Five, there isn’t. Distantly, Diego knows it’s because he’s seen this body before, or something _close_ to this body. He’s already familiar with it and the fact that Five probably already knows just what to do to tease him makes Diego’s head spin. 

He bites at Five’s collarbone, his hips jerking instinctively into the hand that’s wrapped around him. He’s usually more composed than this, taking a lot more than a simple hand job to have his eyes rolling back into his head, but Five always had that affect on him. 

His own hand snakes down Five’s bare chest, mindful of the bruises before his fingers brush the waistband of his shorts. They trail lower, a large hand settling over his bulge, his entire hand easily encompassing it. Five doesn’t feel that small, but with a hand that’s twice the size as it had been seventeen years ago, it’s different. He squeezes, slowly beginning to drag his hand over his length, his thumb pressing at the head through the seam of his shorts. He pulls his head back, lips parted and wet as his tongue slips out to slick them, watching Five fall apart below him.  
  
Cursing under his breath, Five presses his head back into the blankets of Diego's bed. What he wouldn't do for a body that had a bit of a higher tolerance to pleasure than this. He's familiar with what Diego's hand feels like, even if he isn't familiar with them being this _big_ on his body, but what he _isn't_ familiar with is the way his entire body flushes like a fire was just set under his skin from the first little brush of Diego's hand on him. 

"Jesus... _fucking_ christ, you-- _jackass_ \--" he hisses out, teeth bared like a dog, his eyes squeezed shut because he can't bear to look at Diego's stupid face right now. His hand tightens around Diego's balls, giving them a retaliatory tug as his other hand curls around his cockhead and grinds the heel of his hand roughly against it, just to try and knock the other man for as much of a loop as he's currently reeling in. 

His mouth drops open around a noise that's as much a snake hiss as it is a moan of pleasure, his dick throbbing and jumping up against Diego's touch through his shorts. He feels too hot all over, sweltering under the dense cotton fabric, and he hastily lets go of Diego's length in order to wedge his thumbs into the waistband. He shimmies to get his shorts and underwear off, very intentionally lifting one leg to grind the soft cotton of his kneesock against Diego's cock as he does so, until he's able to kick both to the ground, leaving him in only his socks and open shirt underneath his brother, like a fucking porn star. He kind of likes the way it makes him feel.  
  
It isn’t a competition, Diego tells himself, but watching Five’s face flush, blotchy patches of red trailing down his neck and across his chest, hearing those words fall from his parted lips, he wants it to be. He wants to _ruin_ Five, keep him stretched out underneath him like this until he’s _begging_.

His sits back on his knees as Five kicks his shorts off, staring at the sight that’s left before him, Five in nothing but his unbuttoned shirt and socks. Diego never had a thing for the socks and he appreciates nice legs when he sees them, but now he never wants Five to take them off. His hand slowly trails up his leg, fingers skirting towards his inner thighs, shoving his legs apart as they trace closer towards where his cock stands, already red, leaking, and begging for attention. 

His eyes meet Five’s as he spits in the palm of his hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around his cock, his entire hand enveloping it except for the head and Diego watches a drop of precum drip down from it, mixing with his saliva as he twists his hand. He can’t remember the last guy he slept with, can’t remember if he couldn’t take his eyes off his cock as he jerked him, can’t remember if he felt the overwhelming urge to sink his mouth down on him until he’s gagging. Maybe he only wants to do those things to Five, he realizes, as he sits between his spread legs, working his cock with one hand, the other slowly dragging his thumb down the seam of his balls.  
  
" _Fuck_ \--" Five grinds his hand against his forehead once Diego moves out of range for him to keep touching him. His back arches and fire fills his belly as his legs lift and spread and brace on the mattress. It's the first real skin-on-skin contact this body has ever received, and it's enough to completely take his breath away. He's angry at himself for how reactive he is, embarrassed over how sensitive his body is, and when his voice cracks on a feeble, choked-off moan, he hates that too. 

He doesn't _really_ hate any of it, he knows. It's just knowing how fucking _smug_ Diego's going to be about all of it that makes him flush with mortification. He's going to have to put him back in his place, later. 

"Fuck-- _fuck_ Diego you-- slow _down_ , you brute, I'm not--" his voice breaks again, his head tipping back against the sheets, and his hips pop up off the bed, fucking the tight circle of Diego's fingers with a few short thrusts. It feels like he can't breathe it feels so good. A quiet _ah, ah, ah,_ falls from his lips like honey with every stroke of his brother's hand over his length, overwhelmed and blissed-out.  
  
Diego’s sure that if he gets his mouth on Five’s cock, he’ll be coming in an instant. He doesn’t think either of them would complain about it, and Five’s body is young enough to get worked up again within a few minutes, but Diego wants this to last, especially when he sees the look of pure bliss on his brother’s face. 

The hand that’s wrapped around his cock comes to a slow stop, but he squeezes around the base, watching the head pump another drop that Diego has to stop himself from chasing with his tongue as Five’s hips continue to pulse up into his fist. “Fuck...” He murmurs, dropping his head down to press a kiss to Five’s hip, wet lips trailing lower, hovering over his waist as his gaze flickers back up to the other man. 

“I wanna suck you off,” he says, his voice low enough that there’s a chance Five might not have even heard him as Diego’s lips move lower. He flattens himself out, stomach pressed into the mattress, his own cock dragging against the open fly of his pants, twitching hard as he’s face to face with Five’s length. He exhales, hot breath hitting Five’s balls and he watches them curl up into him and Diego wants to bury his face in them, but he looks up at Five instead, as if waiting for permission to truly break him apart.  
  
Five could hang himself by the neck for the noise he makes when Diego says that. Chest heaving, flushed down to his sternum, Five swallows hard to try and strongarm some shred of his dignity back into place. He reaches down to grab Diego by the hair with one hand, his other hand laid across his stomach in an attempt to look casual, nonchalant, like it really couldn't matter to him if Diego sucked his cock. But the way his pupils have blown out and the bright flush on his cheeks tell a different story. 

"Do it," he says, giving Diego's hair a sharp tug towards his aching length, visibly twitching and bobbing in Diego's grip with every hard pulse of his heart.  
  
A quiet sound falls from Diego’s lips as Five tugs him closer to his cock. His gaze hardens for a moment, deciding if this how Five wants to act, he’ll indulge him, give him exactly what he wants and more, just to watch him beg. 

He seals his lips around the head of his cock, his hand still gripping the rest of it tight as he keeps his eyes locked on Five’s face. Diego is nothing if not overconfident, even in things he lacks experience in, and with Five’s cock hot and heavy on his tongue, he’s determined to give him a blowjob that blows his mind as he slowly replaces his fingers with his mouth, sinking lower, until just his thumb and forefinger are left around the base of his shaft.  
  
Five doesn't make a sound at first, his face slowly going redder as he holds his breath. His face is frozen in an expression of agonized pleasure, his lips slightly parted and brow furrowed so deeply they're nearly touching in the middle. His belly flexes and jumps, and he curls his toes into the sheets through his socks, as he watches Diego sink down over him while making smug fucking eye contact. It's only after he hits the back of Diego's throat that Five makes a sound at all. He breaks that insufferable eye contact, lets his head fall back, opens his mouth and _moans_. 

He's had his dick sucked before-- he's even had his sick sucked _by_ Diego, more times than he could ever hope to count, in fact. Diego's always had somewhat of an oral fixation, and with lips like his, he was frankly _born_ to suck cock. But he's never fit so absolutely perfectly in his mouth before, exactly long enough to fit to the back of his throat and just a _bit_ longer, just enough to test his gag reflex. His hands tighten in Diego's hair and his hips bounce upwards again, grinding into his soft palate with a few heavy, gusty exhales. 

"Fuck-- _fuck_ , Diego--" he sounds almost mean, his words bitten out through clenched teeth. "You-- don't disappoint."  
  
As Five’s cock hits the back of his throat, Diego’s hands come up to grip the other man’s hips, fingers pressing firmly into his skin. He’s pushing himself hard enough to make tears well up in the corners of his eyes, gagging quietly as Five pushes past the weak restraint of his hands, but Diego has never been a quitter.

He pulls off after a moment, his gaze flickering up to Five’s flushed face, then back down to his cock, a line of spit connecting the head of it to his lips, even as Diego sucks in a deep breath before lowering his mouth back on to him again. He doesn’t take him as deep this time, but he starts bobbing his head, a couple fingers wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him steady as he sucks him, his tongue dragging alongside the underside. 

He’s not an expert at this, but he’s been told he has a talented mouth and an even better tongue, so he uses it to his advantage, and if the sounds falling from Five’s lips are indication that he’s enjoying it, Diego would say it’s definitely a transferable skill.  
  
"Fuck-- fuck _fuck_ \--" Five grits out through clenched teeth as Diego proceeds to try and suck the life right out of his body. His chest heaves, his bruised ribs ache, and the pleasure coils in his stomach just as he predicted, _embarrassingly_ quickly. He'd barely had any stamina for grinding, much less this, it shouldn't surprise him how quickly Diego's mouth can bring him to the edge of ecstasy. He chases that pleasure, grinding across his tongue, taking great pleasure in the way he gags every time Five hits the back of his throat. 

It's a mistake, looking down at Diego's face, watching his cock disappear between his lips. His lips are so full and soft, plump with use and shiny, and his cheeks hollow when he pulls up-- even the sight of his hand, only the forefinger and thumb of which are coiled around him, makes his stomach flutter. His skin is so handsomely dark against his own pale body, and his hand looks _huge_ wrapped around him. He wonders what his own hand would look like on Diego's cock, and lets out a squeaky, pathetic groan just at the thought. 

His cock jumps against Diego's tongue and as much as he wants to just chase that orgasm down, he grits his teeth and forces himself to be considerate, even though his voice cracks and trembles slightly. "Diego-- I'm close--"  
  
Diego looks up when he hear the warning, thankful that Five had even given him one, and he meets his eyes, Five’s normal bright green ones darker than he’d ever seen them. He pulls off his cock with an obscene pop, a sound that makes Diego’s own dick twitch and he reaches underneath him to press his palm against the bulge in his boxers. 

He licks down Five’s shaft, his tongue sliding down the seam of his balls as his fist wraps around him again. “Go ahead,” he murmurs against his skin, his hand slowly beginning to pump, thumb gliding over the head of Five’s cock as he sucks his balls into his mouth. Five doesn’t need permission, but Diego gives it to him anyway, his hand working faster over his length to bring him over the edge.  
  
Five very nearly blacks out when he cums, his head tipping back all the way and his back arching off the bed. His hands both tighten in Diego's hair, and his thighs lift and squeeze around his ears, as his mouth falls open around a noise that's more squeak than shout. He cums so hard he feels his head spin and his legs shake, and his balls in Diego's mouth draw up tight against his body. Diego pulls his mouth off Five’s balls just as he feels the first drop hit his knuckles, lifting his head just as much as Five’s grip will allow it, peering up at him as his hand strokes him through his orgasm. 

He's sure he makes a spectacular show of it, face red and cock twitching as he releases a few meager drops onto his belly, some of it landing on and trickling down Diego's knuckles. He doesn't have the room in his brain to be self conscious, too much of his head is full of _Diego_. The way he smells, the way he sounds, the way he moves, the way he feels-- the way he's making _Five_ feel. He's overwhelmed. He looks incredible, flushed down to his chest, pink lips parted and spilling the sweetest sounds Diego has ever heard, eyes shut in pleasure. The hand that’s palming his own dick squeezes tight, chasing the same pleasure Five is feeling.

Panting like he'd been sprinting, Five sags back down to the mattress, and his hands slip out of Diego's roots, petting apologetically through the strands to make up for the tight grip he'd maintained.

"Good, good," he praises, his voice croaky and soft. "Good, Diego."

Diego grins when Five lets go of his hair, pressing a teasing kiss to the head of his cock before he lets go, moving to collapse on the bed on his back next to him. He looks at his hand, splattered with a few drops of white and he holds Five’s gaze as he brings it up to his lips, slowly licking his release off his knuckles. He’s never been compelled to do that before, but if it gets a reaction out of Five, it’ll be worth it, he decides.  
  
"Jesus _christ_ Diego," Five groans, pleasure throbbing hotly in his stomach at the sight of his lover sampling him like a fucking delicacy. "You're an _animal_." He says, as if he wouldn't let Diego cum down his throat given the chance.  
  
“I’ve been told,” Diego says with a cocky grin before he takes the moment to kick off his own pants and underwear, tossing them over the side of his bed. 

Disappearing in a flash, Five reappears just a moment later with a couple items in tow. First he takes Diego's hand by the wrist and roughly cleans his knuckles with a wet cloth, before cleaning off his own stomach. Tossing the cloth off to the side, he throws a thigh over Diego's lap and uncaps the lube he'd also grabbed and brought back with him. 

Leaning forward to brace one hand on Diego's chest, he reaches down between his legs with wet fingers, and impatiently pushes two into himself. He sucks in a sharp inhale, dropping his chin down to his chest, and grinds them in carefully to the knuckle. He hasn't touched himself like this in this body before, and the pressure is enough to make his head spin dizzily. Diego can't see from this angle, the view blocked by Five's wrist, but he can _hear_ the slick noises of him fingering himself.

Diego wraps a hand around himself, a quiet groan falling to his lips as Five climbs back into his lap, his free hand coming to rest on the other man’s hip. He doesn’t need to look down at him to realize what he’s doing and the thought alone makes his cock throb in his hand, but the sounds of Five’s fingers sliding in and out of himself definitely help. 

“ _Fuck_...” He murmurs as he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock before letting go, his hand finding Five’s and he grabs his wrist. As much as he wants to continue to watch Five finger himself, he wants to feel how tight he is, wants to watch the look on his face as he slides a thick finger into him. “Let me help, Five.”  
  
Five almost says no, only because he's determined to have some agency in this process-- but more than he wants that, he wants Diego in all forms. There will be time later to assert his position in the relationship, to take his rightful place at the top of the pecking order just like before-- but this is their first time together like this. This is special, and Diego deserves a little more room to spread out. So he pulls his fingers out with a sticky, slick noise, and wipes them off on the cloth instead, handing the lube off to Diego. 

He leans forward on top of him, leaning his weight on both hands on his shoulders, and flexes his knees so he can angle his ass out for his lover. He feels small on top of him, with his shirt hanging down around his elbows and revealing his scrawny shoulders and upper arms. Now that they have the time, he's going to have to start bulking up all over again.  
  
Diego takes the lube from Five, using his other hand to open it and pour some out on to his fingers. He drops the bottle on the bed, his free hand coming up to lay on Five’s lower back. Even like this, with his chin tucked into his chest and his ass up, he looks incredible and all Diego wants to do is admire him. 

His finger slowly traces his rim, teasing for a brief moment before he pushes it in, feeling it slide all the way up to his first knuckle. He’s tight, pulling Diego’s finger further and his own cock throbs between his legs. “ _Fuck_ , Five,” he grits as his finger slides in past the second knuckle and he can feel Five clench around him as he slowly starts to fuck him with it, letting him get used to the feeling of just one before he starts to add a second.  
  
Five lets his head hang heavily on Diego's shoulder as he gives up on trying to hold himself up and just lays against him chest to chest, trying to maintain some of his dignity with an iron grip, so for the first few seconds all he does he pant wetly against the side of his neck. But he can't keep his reactions in, the feeling of Diego's fingers dragging into him have him making soft, involuntary sounds. He'd half expected this body to riot and reject the sensation of penetration due to its newness and inexperience, but he's opening up with a familiar burn and ache that makes his spent cock twitch against Diego's stomach. 

"Fucking-- _shit_ \--" he grinds the words between his teeth, his hole fluttering and clamping down around Diego's fingers. They're big, big enough that Five is practically salivating with the idea of what it's going to be like to actually take his cock. He refuses to entertain the idea that he might not fit, if there's one thing Five knows it's that when there's a will, there's a way. 

He rocks his hips back to meet Diego's fingers, riding him to the knuckles as he pushes up to lean on his arms again, locking his elbows so he doesn't fall while he rolls into the touch, his hips moving in tight, fluid little circles like he's dancing as much as riding. Now and then he feels the rigid length of Diego's cock brush against his thigh or cheek, and that only spurs him on more, as louder and more earnest sounds spill out of him. Diego's fingers feel fucking _sublime_.  
  
As Diego’s fingers work in and out of Five’s hole and Five rocks his hips back to fuck himself on them, all Diego can do is watch. He knows this body hasn’t been touched like this before, but Five’s rolling his hips like he’s an expert, before Diego realizes that he probably _is_. What else was there to do in apocalyptic wasteland to pass the time? Still, he swells a little because at least he gets to be the first one to see Five this way, just like he’d been the first one to share a kiss with him. 

His free hand curls tightly around Five’s hip, helping to guide him while his fingers spread inside him, opening him up even more. “That’s it,” he murmurs encouragingly, his head tipping down to look at Five and his cock throbs at the sight of him, leaking precum down his shaft as his hips press up, seeking any friction he can find against Five’s leg. 

He teases a third finger around his rim, spreading the two that are already inside him before slowly adding the third, just to the first knuckle. Despite being able to think of nothing other than sliding his dick into the man above him, Diego still knows it’s better to be overly cautious  
  
"Fuck-- _fuck_ \--" Five's mouth drops open at the stretch of the third finger, and he's forced to contend for the first time with how fucking _big_ Diego's fingers are. He could handle the one, he could even take in two easily, but three fingers is where the challenge lies. His legs start to tremble around Diego's hips, and his chest heaves in shallow, quick little breaths, his eyes clench tightly shut and his brows knit together in concentration as he works to control his muscles. He forces them to relax, to open, even as his body protests the idea at first-- but he's in control of himself, not his wretched body. 

By the time Diego has those three fingers worked into Five to the final knuckle, he feels so full he swears he should be able to look down and see them pushing out against his stomach. He has to fight not to outright drool on Diego's shoulder as he shallowly rides those pumping fingers, his motions unsteady and his grip on his dignity quickly faltering. 

He very nearly begs, he can feel the pleading on the tip of his tongue and only barely snaps his teeth around his whimpers to preserve some shred of his dominance in the situation. Panting through his nose, he flexes purposefully around Diego's fingers, and when they brush his prostate again, he _shouts_. He's fully hard all over again, twitching and aching against Diego's belly, and he can feel how soft and sloppy he's gone around Diego's probing fingers. "I'm ready--" he insists, finally opening his eyes to look down at the younger man, smug and beautiful as he is.  
  
Diego doesn’t want to push Five too far, not yet anyway, but he’s rewarded with the sweetest sounds he could ever think of hearing, combined with the wet, slick noise of Five fucking himself on his fingers and Diego swears he could lose it just from one thrust into him. 

He wants to hear him beg, but he knows Five will never do that, so he takes the announcement for what it’s worth, slowly sliding his fingers out of Five with a quiet groan. He grabs Five by his waist and flips them over, hovering on his knees between his spread legs as he reaches for the bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount over his cock. He gives himself a few slow strokes, his eyes trailing over Five’s body, watching the rise and fall of his flushed chest through his open shirt, the way his dick stands hard and angry between his legs, how his hole is wet and fluttering and begging to be filled.

He lines himself up, the head of his cock teasing his rim as he tips his head down, pressing a firm kiss to Five’s jaw. “Relax,” he tells him, his voice low as he pushes his hips forward, just enough for the tip of his cock to slip in and a groan falls from his lips. He resists the urge to slam all the way in, enveloping himself in Five and how tight and hot he is, but he still has some self-control, so he pushes in inch by inch, his head pressed against Five’s, eyes open to watch every look on the other man’s face.  
  
Five hunches in on himself when Diego pushes in, and immediately clamps a hand over his mouth to hold back the overwhelmed shout that nearly spills out of him. It muffles against his palm and he pants harshly through his nose, and his second hand reaches up to clamp over the first, as if the first one wouldn't be enough to hold him back. He curls up under Diego, his knees clamping around his hips and shoulders hunched up around his ears, completely overwrought within seconds. 

Diego feels almost _too_ big, but their patient preparation pays off when he feels Diego's hips press against his ass. He can feel his heartbeat in his channel, pulsing along with the pounding in his chest around Diego's cock, pressing out against his inner walls from all angles. He waits to get used to the feeling, but there's no _getting used to_ the feeling of an entire fucking forearm up inside him. 

Finally pulling his hands away from his mouth when he's certain he isn't about to start sobbing outright, he reaches up to take Diego by the shoulders instead, and his head and shoulders slump back against the covers. "Okay," he grits out, nodding. "Go."  
  
Diego’s getting impatient and he finds it harder and harder to stay still, but he doesn’t dare move, even when Five tells him to. He just feels so tight, clenching hard around him, that Diego’s afraid that even the slightest motion will rip him in half. He hesitates for another moment, staring down at the man beneath him, looking for any sign in his face that he isn’t ready, but all Diego sees is an honest expression and he nods a little, readjusting his hands on the mattress to give better leverage before he slowly starts to draw his hips back. 

The moan that falls from Diego’s lips as he slides back in is sinful, a sound he wasn’t quite sure he could make. He sets a slow, deep pace, burying himself as far as he can, hips pressed against Five’s ass. It’s torture, but it’s incredible, like nothing Diego has felt before and it makes him grind his hips a little harder into Five as he reaches down to grab one of his legs and hook it higher up around his hips.  
  
Five had thought he would get used to the feeling after the first couple of thrusts, he thought he would grow accustomed to the slide, but it turns out there _is_ no getting used to this, not in this body. He keenly feels every push, every drag of flesh on flesh, and it leaves him breathless every time that Diego bottoms out inside him. His nails dig into Diego's shoulders, and he coils his ankles behind his hips, practically hanging off of him like a morning glory on a vine, his breath completely taken away every time Diego pushes back inside. 

His muscles jerk and twitch, overstimulated and exerted to the point of trembling, and he turns his head to press his face against the pillow, embarrassed by the expression he knows he's making. He must look like such a _bottom_ right now, and it sets a fire behind his ribs to think of it. It's only made worse by Diego hovering over him, who is looking at Five like he wants to eat him or fuck him or both. With his hair hanging down around his jaw, his eyes dark and his throat and forehead glistening with sweat, he looks like an adonis as he ripples on top of Five. 

"Fuck--" he grits out, experimentally flexing his muscles around Diego, and when he pushes in again just a bit harder than before and tags his prostate on the way past, a hot flash of pleasure fills his body and his back arches with a second, louder, _"Fuck!"_  
  
Diego echoes his exclamation in another low groan that spills quickly from his lips as his hips snap forward even harder, pushing through the resistance Five is teasing him with. He throbs inside him as he sets a faster pace, taking shallower thrusts, but every so often, he angles his hips up, hitting Five’s prostate. 

He can’t take his eyes off of him, shaking the hair out of his face so he can see him better, even though this image of Five will be burned into his mind forever. He places a hand on Five’s chest, watching the way his fingers stretch over his pale skin, covering so much surface area, and Diego can’t get over how _small_ he is and how he’s taking him like he was born to. “So fucking good, Five,” he spits out, dropping his head back down so his lips can find Five’s jaw, sucking at the spot where it meets his neck.  
  
"Diego-- _Diego_ , you-- oh-- _fuck_ \--" Five struggles to even get words out, his brain effectively turned to static by Diego's thrusts. The substantial weight of him as he drags through Five's insides, the gliding friction of their union, and the low rumble of Diego's voice all serve to fray his mind.

He unhinges his fingers from Diego's shoulders, admiring the crescent-moon indents he left behind in his skin, and rakes his hands back through his hair to hold it out of his face. He wants to be able to see Diego, wants to watch his lips twitch and his brows furrow, he wants to watch him fall to pieces the same way Diego is watching him. He's beautiful on top of him, strong and protective and possessive. Like the inexorable pull of a dying star, Five is pulled into the Supernova and doesn't try to fight it for a second.

"Harder," he grinds the word between his teeth, his hand pulling at Diego's hair for some shred of dominance. "You're not going to break me--"  
  
Diego lets out a moan when Five tugs at his hair, forcing his head back just enough, a not-so-gentle reminder that even though he was on top, Five was in charge. He wasn’t complaining, though. If Five wanted it harder, he’d gladly give him what he wanted. 

He keeps his hand planted firmly on Five’s chest, pressing him into the mattress as his hips start to snap harder and faster into him, enough so that the bed slams against the wall with each forward thrust. He’s glad their siblings aren’t home, since they’d definitely be able to hear what they were up to. 

“Good?” He asks, like he needs reassurance even though the answer is clearly written on Five’s face, and a quick glance down between them towards where his cock is hard and leaning against his stomach confirms it. He’s slightly out of breath, but he doesn’t dream of stopping, not when he can feel himself drawer closer to the edge with each thrust.  
  
Five throws his head back and moans loudly, his body bouncing on the mattress, pinned in place only by that big hand on his chest. His eyes screw shut and he grabs Diego's wrist with one hand, still wrenching his head back with the hold on his hair. His chest feels full, heaving under the firm hold of Diego's hand, full of warmth and affection, bursting with love, _bursting_ \-- 

He cums with a _wail_ this time, the pleasure winding through his entire body like a thousand hands clambering across his skin, pounding pleasure into his muscles. Diego fucks him through it, sending a fresh wave of agonizing pleasure through him every time his cock tags his prostate, until Five is writhing and bucking under him, chasing that bliss. His ankles unlink from behind his back, his knees squeezing his hips instead, shaking, every part of him is _shaking_. 

"Pleasepleaseplease _pleaseplease_ \--" the begging finally spills from his mouth without thought, clawing and sobbing and pleading-- what he's begging for, even he doesn't know. More? Less? Whatever Diego will give him, he wants it, he wants so much he can't stand to take anymore.  
  
Diego feels it before he realizes it’s happening, the way Five clenches around him, the hot splatter against his stomach, the sound that falls from Five’s lips. It only makes him fuck him harder, his pace faltering and falling uneven as he draws closer to the edge, and then Five is begging and Diego can’t back any longer. 

He pulls out, a hand wrapping tightly around himself as he cums all over Five, his head tipping back as a groan falls from his lips. He strokes himself through it, the hand that’s still holding him above him beginning to shake as he takes a moment to catch his breath, coming back to reality as he opens his eyes again. 

He looks down at Five, covered in both their release, still breathing heavy as Diego collapses on to the bed next to him. He meets his eyes, hungry brown ones searching half-lidded green ones before he leans in, his lips finding Five’s for a rough kiss.  
  
Five is a mess, inside and out. His jaw tingles as he angles it up to meet Diego's mouth, to lean into that kiss. His hands run through his hair again, this time just to hold him behind the ears, and then it all rushes up to meet him at once, and he can't breathe. 

The past two weeks, the retrospective knowledge of everything the first Diego witnessed him become, the fighting and arguing and making up and lying and hiding and _dying_ \-- it's too much. Even for a man as strong as Five, even with everything he's already endured, it's too fucking much. His breath hitches as Diego cleans off his stomach with the cloth, and that's the single toe over the line that the floodgates need to burst open. 

Diego is the only person he trusts implicitly not to tease or belittle him for crying, but how _cliche_ it is to cry during sex still has him lifting a hand to cover his face as he takes in a ragged inhale, his other hand grabbing Diego by the shoulder. It's too much, he's seen too much, suffered too much, he's too tired to hold it all inside anymore. It's too big and his body is too small.  
  
Diego pauses the second he sees Five hiding his face, not needing to catch a glimpse at his face in order to know that there are tears spilling from his eyes. The hand on his shoulder is tight and Diego’s own hand falls where it’s still cleaning Five up, tossing the rag over the edge of the bed. 

For a moment, he fears it’s his fault. Maybe he pushed Five too hard, and even though the other man had told him he wasn’t going to break him, maybe he just didn’t know the limits of his own body. He’s almost afraid to touch him again, but he lays a firm hand on Five’s shoulder, pulling him in as his other arm loops around his waist. 

“Hey,” Diego whispers, tilting his head down to look at Five, even though he was still covering his face. “Hey, it’s alright.” He hesitates, then his voice softens even more as a gentle hand guides Five’s hand away from his face. “Talk to me, Five.”  
  
Five grimaces like a wounded animal when Diego uncovers his face, and he throws his arm around his neck instead to hide his face in his shoulder. He needs to be close to him, needs to share his space and feel his heart beat, chest to naked chest, skin to skin. The most intimate of closeness shared between two people possible, and even then it does little to quell the ache in his chest. 

He just wants the pain to stop. The agony of the last few weeks, the stolen triumph, the hardship, all the fucking _mistakes_ he made-- he just wants it all to stop hurting. This was the compassion they were supposed to have stripped away from him at the Commission, this sort of feeling is what they were supposed to prevent. Maybe this is why he broke his contract, maybe this is why he was such a bad agent in the end. Maybe they were just bad at their jobs. 

"I'm-- fine," he insists, like he isn't gasping between his words.  
  
Diego can very clearly tell that he’s _not_ fine, and isn’t just because of the way he’s sobbing into his shoulder. It’s how Five won’t meet his eyes, how he grips him like he’s afraid he’ll fade away. He holds him tight, tugging him into his lap as his hand cradles the back of his head, a touch that contrasts how they’d been touching each other just a few minutes before. 

“It’s alright if you’re not fine,” Diego murmurs, but he and Five are alike in that way - admitting that they’re fine even through the tears. Maybe that would change, maybe they just both needed the push that the other would provide. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”  
  
Five desperately tries to get a handle on himself, but it's like the harder the tries, the faster he falls apart, until he's clawing at Diego's shoulders like an animal fighting to get away. It isn't Diego he wants to get away from-- entirely the opposite. 

"I'm just-- hormonal--" he gasps, but he knows that isn't a good enough excuse. He hears Diego hum skeptically in his chest, and he pushes at his shoulders to get him to roll over onto his side so Five can curl into the circle of his arms, and burrow down like an animal in a den. The only good thing that has come out of his body being like this is how _protected_ he can feel when encircled in his lover's embrace. He runs his hands over his chest, his sides and ribs, down his arms, just feeling every inch of his skin as he grinds his face into Diego's shoulder and braces himself for the incoming vulnerability. "I'm so-- _tired_ of losing you. I lost you in the wastes... and then I lost you in the nuclear attack... and then I lost you to Lila... and then I lost you to the Handler... and then I lost you to the ether-- if I lose you again, I don't know what I'll do."  
  
Diego moves with Five, his arms coming to wrap tightly around him as they settle on the bed together and the other man presses into him, getting as close as he possibly can, but Diego doesn’t complain. 

He sighs quietly, tilting his head down to rest on top of Five’s as one of his hands rubs down his back. He gets it, not to the same extent as Five, but he’d lost him once, too. He’d watched him get up in the middle of dinner without so much as a second glance, walk out the door, and only come back seventeen years later. He hadn’t watched him die, but he’d lived with the uncertainty of never knowing if he’d see Five again. 

“You won’t,” he responds, his voice quiet but firm as he squeezes Five, tangling their legs together in an attempt to be even closer. “You’re not gonna lose me again, Five. Promise.”  
  
"You can't _say that._ " Five shudders in his embrace, spreading his hand on Diego's back just to feel the solid warmth of his skin under his palm. "I've done it so many times now If I had a card to holepunch I'd have a free _sub_ by now. This made it _real_ , Diego," he cranes his head back to look up at him. "When I was lying to myself about how bad I needed you, at least if I lost you again, I thought it wouldn't hurt as bad. I wasn't losing something that was _mine_ , just something I _wanted_." 

He scoots up a little higher on the bed so he can wrap his arms around Diego's neck, digging his hands into his hair as he rests their foreheads together. "It wasn't true. Watching you get shot in that barn, watching you _die_ \-- christ, you don't even remember it. I went back in time to stop her-- Diego, I watched you bleed out in the hay. And all I could think was how I wished my heart would stop next so I wouldn't have to think about how bad it hurt to exist in a world without you in it-- and you weren't even _mine_."  
  
Diego blinks at Five, the hands tangled in his hair forcing his head back so that he could look at Five, meeting his eyes for the first time since he started crying and he has to stop himself from reaching out, wiping away his tears, and interrupting him. 

It’s clear that the years he spent without Five were nothing compared to what the other man endured. He couldn’t even wrap his head around watching Five die once, let alone several times. It sinks deep into the pit of his stomach, weighing him down further into the mattress as he tightens his arms around Five. 

“We fixed it, Fiveh” he whispers as he looked into Five’s frantic eyes, unsure of what to even say at this point to calm him down. He couldn’t promise him anything, he couldn’t be so sure that nothing like that would ever happen again, but he’d try his hardest not to let Five go through it again. “I’m not going anywhere, alright?”  
  
Five searches Diego's face as he makes his promise, searching for any indication that he's lying, that he knows some cosmic twist of fate that will rip him out of Five's arms again and he's just lying to protect him-- but he knows that's foolish. Diego doesn't know what's going to happen any more than Five does, and only Five has the power to reverse time to save him if something does happen. He alone is the arbiter of Diego's safety, the thin veil standing between him and oblivion. He will shield Diego from the world, if he must. At any cost, the man before him won't leave him again. 

It isn't Diego's responsibility to protect Five from his own grief, he knows that much now. He has the power to save Diego from even this, and so with a shaky breath, he hardens his heart against the onslaught of agony that threatens him, unprocessed trauma from watching his beloved slip away again and again being forced down into the depths of his mind he refuses to spend time paying attention to in order just to function. Diego is right about one thing-- they fixed it. They're in the timeline now, _finally_ , where they get to be together again. 

He kisses Diego, the contact harsh but brief before he breaks it to kiss across his cheek to his jaw and ear, and burrow against his neck. "We fixed it," he murmurs in reply, curling into and on top of him.  
  
Diego, for all it’s worth, pours every promise he can’t make into the short kiss, holding Five like he’s afraid he’ll slip away, leaving the older man alone again. Everything is out of control, but for once, he can relax, slow down, and only think about what matters at the present moment, and that’s the way Five curls up into him. 

Five has done more for him than he’ll ever truly know and Diego can’t even begin to think of a way to properly thank him. He doesn’t attempt to, at least not yet, anyway. Maybe one day down the road he’ll be able to put it all into words, but for now he’s content to just press a kiss to the top of Five’s head and reach down to pull the blankets over them before his arm tucks around his small frame again. 

“We’ll be alright,” he says, and it’s not a promise, just an attempt.  
  
Five has no way of knowing that it's true, that they actually _will_ be alright, but he finds that encircled in Diego's embrace, for once those hard-edged, dark thoughts have a hard time breaking through to the front of his brain. Right now, all he can think about is how warm Diego is, how safe he feels, and how content he would be to live right here for the rest of his life, in this bed, in these arms. It strikes him that it's actually a possibility that he _could_ do exactly that. 

For the first time in his life, in his _entire_ life, Five thinks things actually _are_ going to be okay. 


	16. Chapter 16

"Quit flinching." Five's words are firm, but not unkind as he flattens Diego's hand over his knee. 

It's been six months, since they made it home from the 60's. Six months and the Commission hasn't bothered them-- nor has anyone else, really. After they saved the world from two consecutive apocalypses, life on planet Earth just... went on as normal. They didn't know they were saved, as far as they knew, they went to bed on the night of the apocalypse, and woke up the next morning. The only people whose lives were changed forever by the events was the Hargreeves family. 

He glances up at Diego's face with a soft smile, and reaches up to brush a thumb over his lower lip. "Stop being nervous," he says, stern but playful. "Some badass you are. I'll start, just listen to me and it'll be over soon."

He looks back down at his work and clears his throat. He'd gone over this a million times in his head, rehearsing and re-rehearsing to make sure he wouldn't miss a single word. "You're a fucking idiot," he starts out strong, but his tone of voice is soft. "But you're _my_ idiot. You've always been my idiot, and you're always going to be. I _said_ quit flinching."  
  
Diego’s stomach churns, but his eyes remain locked on Five, taking in a grounding breath through his nose and exhaling it out through his mouth. “I’m gonna keep flinching, so just keep going,” he snaps, but there’s no real bite to his words. There hasn’t been in the past six months as they’d fallen into something of a routine. They closest they’d come to arguing was what the rest of their family said was them bickering like an old married couple. Diego never complains when they says that. 

After a moment though, his expression softens, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips at Five’s endearing insult. He wouldn’t expect anything less from him. “I’m honored to be your idiot,” he deadpans, but he means it. 

It took him a little longer to come around to the reality of the situation, that it almost felt as though he were _destined_ to be with Five. He didn’t believe in that shit, but it didn’t stop him from pondering, and after a few weeks of laying awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for another impending apocalypse, or an appearance from Lila, or any sign that things weren’t back to normal, it finally landed him here.  
  
"You should be," Five says without looking up, "I'm a catch. Don't interrupt me."

He exhales slowly, setting to work, and the air electrifies between them. Things have been somewhat slow going between him and Diego, but Five has been nothing but patient. It's all he owes his brother, after all the emotional turmoil he put Diego through when he was trying to fend him off and push him away. He'd already done his part to apologize for his oversight in that regard, and Diego understood-- but it took a little time for Diego to completely settle on the idea of being in an extended, committed relationship with someone who visibly looks like a tween. Not to mention, the time he needed to take just to unpack everything that happened to him with Lila. 

Five let him take his time. He wasn't going anywhere, and finally they had all the time in the world. 

"I know I'm not exactly the man... the _boy_ you remember, from before I left you," Five continues solemnly. "But I'm the man I am today because _you_ never left _me_. You change me, fundamentally. You make me better. Not just that, you make me want to _be_ better."

Diego falls silent, his eyes flickering from Five’s face, glancing around the empty living room, anywhere but down in his lap. He knows this conversation is important, it’s one Five has been patiently waiting to have for months now, and it wasn’t that Diego didn’t want to, but being so open always made him feel nervous. 

It was another thing he was working on - vocalizing his emotions to Five instead of bottling them up and exploding. That clearly got them nowhere, so they both got better at it, but he still was never prepared to hear what was actually on Five’s mind. 

His heart flutters in his chest as he meets Five eyes again and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look this soft before. Diego doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to be reprimanded for interrupting him again, but his own expression softens, the hint of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Five’s words swell within him.

Five glances up at him to meet his eyes for a moment. He could drown in that dark brown gaze. He can't help but lean up to steal a quick, tender kiss before getting back to work, ducking his head down. It's easier to talk when he's not looking at those soft puppy eyes. 

"I'm looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together, again," he murmurs, giving Diego's hand a soft squeeze. "Most people only get to live one lifetime with the person they're crazy about. I'm lucky enough to get to do it twice. I must have done something exceptional in a past life to deserve it." He says, as if he didn't help save the world twice over. 

He looks back up at Diego, and gives his hand another squeeze. "Alright, your turn."  
  
Diego has to put his thoughts into words, something he’s never been good at, and even though he’s had time to think about it, hearing what Five has to say makes goosebumps raise on his skin, but Diego doesn’t look down to see them. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, flinching slightly, which only earns him a soft glare from the other man, but Diego forces himself to relax, both physically and mentally. “I don’t know you as well as you know me, or _knew_ me, I guess, but I know you were the first person I ever really cared about.” 

He didn’t know it when they’d been thirteen, pressed close in a twin bed that one of them dared to sneak into in the middle of the night, but he’d realized it years later. He’d lost everyone he’d cared about in that way, but Five had been the only one to come back and give him a second chance he didn’t know he deserved. 

He clears his throat, continuing to stare at Five even though the other man isn’t looking at him. “And I know that I want to make up for all the time I didn’t get to spend with you.”

Five looks up again, green eyes darting over Diego's face to track every hair on his cheek, every line under his soft brown eyes, and the very corner of his mouth twitches in a barely-there smile. "You will," he says, his words quiet and reverent in this sacred little space between them. "Come hell or high water, this time I'm going to make sure you stick around until you're so old you fall asleep sitting up." He peppers a couple soft kisses across Diego's cheek, catching the corner of his mouth before he sits back down to finish his work.

“Aren’t you already at that point?” Diego responds, his lips turning into more of a grin as he teases Five right back, but he makes the mistake of looking down after Five kisses him and he suddenly feels like he’s spinning. 

He reaches his free hand out, fingers curling into Five’s shoulder as he braces himself, taking in a few steadying breaths until he feels like he can open his eyes again, but he makes sure to keep his head up and his gaze focused on the young face of the man in front of him. 

It’s still hard for him to wrap his head around sometimes, the way Five looks versus how he actually is. It’s not a big deal when they’re behind the doors of their home, but when they’re in public together, Diego has to be mindful of exactly how he’s interacting with Five. He’s been wrongly accused and arrested enough times in life, he doesn’t need to add another false charge to his record. 

He continues, clearing his throat after the nausea passes. “For better, for worse, in sickness and in health, right?” He can’t help but to grin at him again. “All that cheesy shit.”

"All that cheesy shit," Five repeats with a soft smile. "I also promise to not compare you to yourself. You're your own man, a different man, and I'm looking forward to learning everything there is to know about you all over again. My life was better with you in it, I just hope to make yours better with my presence."

He still has a lot of self doubt when it comes to Diego. Fears that he won't be a good enough partner this time around, that Diego deserves someone better. It was different in the wastes, Five was a different man. He hadn't been chewed to pieces and hastily sewn back together by the Commission. He was able to be soft without a struggle, tender and gentle and kind in all the ways Diego deserved. 

But this is a different Diego, he reminds himself. Maybe that version of Five wouldn't have been good for this version of Diego. Maybe it's going to be a process to learn all the new ways he can love this man, all the new ways he can make his life better. Maybe that's going to be part of the fun, this time around.  
  
Diego knows that’s a two-way street - he also needs to try not to compare himself to the version that Five knew so well, but sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes, he can’t help but wonder if he’s living up to Five’s expectations. 

Six months is nothing compared to thirty years, and although the thought of commitment to that extreme had terrified Diego up until a few weeks ago, he looks forward to waking up with Five every day, to watching him grow up, to sharing intimate moments. He feels safe, he feels warm, and the for the first time in a long time, he feels loved. 

A moment of silence falls between the two of them as Five finishes up his work and just as he sits back, Diego reaches out, laying a hand on Five’s knee to keep him close. “Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in, meeting the other man’s eyes. “I love you.” 

He doesn’t need to say anything else. For somebody’s that’s never been sure if he’s experienced love or not, the words had come easy with Five. He closes the distance between them, his lips meeting Five’s as a replacement for everything other unspoken agreement between them, knowing this is good enough.

Five inhales that kiss like a breath of oxygen, leaning up into it and chasing the contact with a hand to the back of Diego's neck. He lets the kiss break when he's ready, and only then does he sit back down and exhale through his nose. He licks his lips and gives the other man a dreamy, hallmark sort of expression for a moment before he brings the iron curtain back down over his betraying expression, and looks back down to wipe off the last of the ink from Diego's finger with the damp cloth, revealing the thin black line bisecting the knuckle of his ring finger. 

"You were a champ," he praises softly, running the pad of his thumb across the angry red skin with a featherlight touch. It's so much cleaner than his own, given to himself in a drunken fit of grief-stricken hysteria, but the contrast between the two of them honestly fits. For Diego, his line is clean and straight and bold, just like Five, and for Five his line is uneven, messy and conceived of passion and conviction, just like Diego. 

He stands up from his chair and straightens his tie, running a hand back through Diego's hair, standing at the perfect height for him to wind his arms around the seated man's shoulders, eye to eye level. "Ready to go tell the others?" he murmurs, searching Diego's beautiful brown eyes for any sign of regret or nerves.

Diego looks at the fresh line around his ring finger, flexing it a few times, watching the tattoo move with his skin. It’s not a ring, it’s not a legally binding commitment - it’s a reminder of a promise that Diego plans to uphold for the rest of his life. 

He feels tears prick in the corners of his eyes, but Five is staring at him, waiting for him to respond, and Diego doesn’t want him to see him cry. Five has seen it before, but his usual angry tears are different from these emotional, happy ones. He isn’t quite ready to reveal that soft side of himself just yet. 

So he clears his throat and nods his head, a hand coming up to rest on Five’s hips as he stands in front of him. “Almost,” he mumbles as his other hand twists in Five’s tie and pulls him down for another kiss. It’s slow, but it’s sweet and it’s tender, and it’s just what he needs to calm his nerves before he’s pulling back and grinning up at Five. “Alright. Let’s go.”  
  
Five has to fix his tie, irritable and blustering, but it's in jest-- and Diego knows that. He'll have years upon years to dissect and understand all of the little intricacies that make up Five's personality, now. Years to take his time and learn everything there is to know about the man he just made a lifelong commitment to. Diego's not the type of man who ever imagined he would get married, and it's not like getting tattoos are legally binding in any sense-- but their situation is unique. It's poetic that their commitment would be symbolic moreso than concrete, identified only by the matching black bands and their love for one another. 

For Five, it's the happy ending he never expected to get. After Diego's death, he'd resigned himself to a long, lonely rest of his life, and now here he stands, hand in hand with his brother, his lover, his _husband_ , about to take the first step into his second lifelong journey with the man at his side. He still doesn't know if he deserves a second run around the block with him, still has doubts about whether Diego deserves to be saddled with a grumpy, mean old man. But the good thing about being married is that he doesn't have to suffer these doubts alone, anymore.

The one thing that Five knows above all else is that he loves the man standing beside him. He loves him so deeply he'd marry him a hundred thousand times over. He'd take one day of bliss with Diego at his side over a thousand years without him, and he knows no greater joy than the understanding that Diego feels the same. It's surreal, embarking on a new life after so many years of suffering-- to think that for the first time he'll be able to wake up in a bed beside Diego, have morning coffee with him brewed in an actual pot, talk about subjects other than survival. He has no idea what a life is going to look like with Diego that isn't entirely wrapped up in just scraping by, just barely surviving-- but he knows he's looking forward to it.  
  
As they push open the doors to confront the rest of their family about the whole truth of their relationship laid out bare, hand in hand and feeling brave, Five knows that yet again he's made the right choice.

This is the man he chooses, the man he would _always_ choose, even if they _weren't_ the last two people left on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who read with us along the way! there's going to be a prequel fic coming soon that'll give you a few glimpses into the lives of the apocalypse husbands and how they grew to be as close as they did, so be on the look out for that!


End file.
